


Sugar We're Goin' Down

by bacchanalia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amnesia, Angst, Bonding, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phone Sex, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, Temporary Amnesia, huehuehue, or is it temporary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bacchanalia/pseuds/bacchanalia
Summary: It's been four years since Keith learned that motorcycles were built specifically not to have sex on; two since Shiro disappeared without a trace. Seven months since Keith couldn't take the pain and had their bond broken; and six since Shiro had been found with no recollection of memories involving Keith or otherwise.





	1. Chapter 1

"Am I more than you bargained for yet?

I’ve been dyin’ to tell you anything

You wanna hear

‘Cause that’s just who I am this week."

-Fall Out Boy

 

Life tended to always be a bitch that came at you fast and fucked you hard with little to no warning. Keith was sure that by this point he’d be able to write a book about the subject, but he had better things to do-- like chainsmoke across the street from a bar called Altea and stare through the window like a creep. Takashi Shirogane was always on shift at this time. Keith would know that because he’s here almost every damn night being the biggest masochist in the world, probably. He could just go in, he knows that. It’s a public bar for fucks sake. 

But he can’t. He really can’t.

Another wasted cigarette gets crushed under the heel of his black boots with red laces. They’re worn down and have been through almost as much shit as he has. In fact, Keith would probably argue that his boots were his prized possession. Well, those and his bike; a red Suzuki that Shiro had fucked him on so good the first day he’d got it and almost broke the kickstand. But that was, how many years ago now? Almost four. Four years since Keith learned that motorcycles were built specifically not to have sex on. Two years since Shiro disappeared without a trace. Seven months since Keith had asked some random Alpha drunk and high off his ass in a club to bite him and break his and Shiro’s bond bite. Six months since Shiro had been found without a trace of any memories involving Keith or otherwise. 

He was fine, Keith told himself. Everything was fine even if it felt like it was on fire all around him. He stood outside the bar instead of going in because he knew there’s no way in hell he’d be able to look at Shiro’s eyes again and see nothing for him inside them. No acknowledgment, no love, no lust-- well, okay maybe he’d be able to get that last part. But it was just as well. That’s the thing he had to keep reminding himself. Because it wasn’t like their relationship had been picture perfect before he’d gone missing. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been fighting almost every night because Keith wouldn’t give up coke, or wouldn’t give up the fact that he was an Omega who had heats just as strong as the next but couldn’t conceive meaning he couldn’t give Shiro the domestic life and family he knew he deserved. 

It all seemed so trivial now, looking back. Maybe if Keith had not been a fucking idiot he would have listened to Shiro tell him the only thing he needed in a family was him. But he didn’t, he didn’t and Shiro had stormed out of their apartment too cool down and never came back.

As if on cue to interrupt his emo fest, Keith felt his cell buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out of the confines of his tight black jeans, the screen of his smart phone illuminated his face in the darkness. It was a text message from Pidge. 

[Pidge: Testing!]   
[...Testing!] 

Keith deadpanned at the screen, not understanding what she was saying, and shot back a quick response. 

[Keith: u a microphone?]

Staring down at the screen, Keith didn’t immediately see the moving dots indicating that Pidge was typing, so he clicked the sleep button on the side of his device. Of course, just as he did so, it buzzed once more. 

[Pidge: TESTING!!!] 

[Keith: oh my god testing WHAT??] 

[Pidge: Testing to see if that weirdo standing outside was really you. It is. Just come inside.]

[Keith: no, i’m going home.]

[Pidge: Memories can come back, Keith. With EXPOSURE. Not with being a stalker.]

[Keith: I don’t want his memories to come back.]

[Pidge: Sure about that MCR Jr?] 

[Keith: MCR??]

[Pidge: my chemical romance.]

[Keith: im blocking u]

[Pidge: Keith]

Keith turned his phone on do not disturb before he could look at the next message that Pidge had started typing. He didn’t need one of his best friends to tell him he was overreacting or underreacting or acting emo. Even if he admitted to himself that he was sort of doing that last part. He needed another cigarette, and a line. Walking back towards where he parked his bike, Keith opened his phone once more to shoot a text to Lance.

[Keith: i’m comin over. Dont be fucking anyone when i get there] 

Yeah, tonight was definitely a ‘get as sloppy as possible with your best friend’ kind of night. 

 

Lance’s apartment was meticulous as always, which Keith enjoyed as a change of scenery to his own dump of a place. Not that the apartment itself was shitty, but to put it simply-- Keith wasn’t good at keeping house. 

“Hey, there’s my rude ass jerk of a buddy. What’s up?” Lance was in the middle of packing a bowl on his couch with multiple bags of weed spread out on the coffee table. Keith flopped down on the opposite side with a raised brow. 

“What are you doing?” Once it was out of his mouth, Keith almost instantly regretted the question. Lance practically leapt to attention, spreading his hands out over the table as if he were on one of those game shows where they have to show off the prize, jazz fingers and all. 

“ _ This _ ? Ohhh Keith. This is  _ art _ , that’s what it is. I got six different strains here, and I’m gonna send us to an herbal blended nirvana, my friend.” Keith couldn’t help laughing a little at that, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a small baggy of white powder.

“Hope you get there, but I got this on my lineup for tonight.” Lance looked between the baggy and Keith’s face, looking absolutely offended. 

“You think blow can take you to Candy Land? No, no, no-- not only do I got Mary here, but if you look to your left, she brought a friend, Jane--”

“You’re talking to weed like its people again.” 

“Uhhh excuse you, but Mary Jane is offended by your lack of respect.” Keith leaned forward, swiping the blue and translucent spiraled piece off the table’s surface. Opening the plastic baggie, he pinched out some of its contents, sprinkling white over the ground up blend like snow on Christmas  as Lance looked at him in horror for tainting a masterpiece. Before Lance could actually form any coherent arguments on the matter though, Keith already had a lighter out of his pocket and flicked its flame to life against the concoction. 

If you lit pop rocks on fire, they’d probably sound the same as the crackling fizz that threatened to escape their glass pit and burn Keith’s fingers, but he paid no attention to that. Inhaling seconds later had his body thrumming at the prospect of being sent to cloud 9 on a silver platter, and he held the smoke in as long as he could stand before expelling it from his nostrils.

Yeah, that was good. 

“Sooo, you ready to talk about what’s eatin you?” Lance leaned back against his worn-in couch cushions, arms crossed languidly behind his head. Keith let his body slump back too, eyes falling shut as his head started to fog. He was nowhere near the level he needed, but Lance was enough of a bro to wait two more hits before getting an answer. 

“Pidge called me emo,” was all he said at first, and had meant it to be spoken as a serious offense, but Lance was right and his shit was good so all Keith could do was start busting up laughing, coughing at the tail end of it. 

“So Pidge told you like it is and you got mad at her, huh?” Lance was smiling too, and Keith lulled his head in his best friend’s direction since he could have sworn that Lance’s voice didn’t always sound like it was echoing. 

“She said I should see Shiro.” He confessed. Lance tensed a bit, knowing very well this was sensitive territory that Keith hardly tread even with himself, let alone anyone else. 

“And..? Do you wanna?” Did he want to? It was such a simple question. So why the hell did it seem like it was impossible to answer? As if everything he could ever think of under the sun would have been applicable. Yes. No. Of course. What the fuck else could he want? Ultimately, he stayed quiet for an immeasurable length of time. Long enough for Lance to take the pipe out of Keith’s limp fingers, clean it out, and pack a new bowl for himself. Smoke wafted over his cheeks and he inhaled at the same moment he realized that Lance was blowing it in his face. 

“I don’t know…” It was the best he had. Lance waited for him to open up more about it on his own, and Keith swore they went through what felt like an entire bag of his pot. Or maybe it had only been one more bowl. He didn’t know. What he did know was that even though he wanted to leave his answer at that, he figured he practically owed it to himself to spitball something on the subject. “...It sucks. Like-- holy shit it sucks so bad, Lance.” Of course it did, it wasn’t like he’d told another Alpha to break his bond with Shiro because everything felt like roses. “But I just keep thinking… He doesn’t remember me, y’know? But that means he also doesn’t remember how tired he was of dealing with my shit, or any of our fights… So… I keep thinking he’s better off anyways. I guess I am MCR.” 

Blowing out a sigh, Keith sunk farther back into the cushions, not bothering to fix his bangs when they fell into his face. 

“I dunno, sounds like you’re running away, y’know? Like-- you don't want Shiro to dump you twice so you're sticking with where you're at. Kinda dumb.” He said it so simply, yet Keith immediately felt himself grow defensive. 

“He wouldn't dump me twice! He didn't even dump me once!” Maybe the tail end of that sounded petulant, Keith didn't care. 

“So if he wouldn't dump you then why aren't you over there winning that big hunk right back into your arms?”

“Don't call Shiro a hunk. It makes me think of  _ Hunk  _ hunk and that's weird.” 

“Can't deny I got a point, Mullet Man.” Lance gave him a classic finger-guns gesture which Keith blatantly ignored in favor of sighing and blowing his bangs out of his face. 

“Whatever. I'll think about it I guess.”

Silence passed until Keith thought Lance had fallen asleep, and he closed his eyes subsequently.

“Hunk is totally a hunk, though now that I think about it.” 

Keith groaned and covered his head with a couch cushion.

 

It took three weeks of Lance and Pidge teaming up on him by sending endless eye emoji texts before Keith finally gave in and agreed to go to Altea. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why the hell his friends had to try and prolong his emotional anguish, but he’d be flat out lying if he said he didn’t miss absolutely everything about Shiro. Of course, his visits had stipulations. He wouldn’t be hinting at their past together tonight, or ever. If he was going to meet Shiro again it was going to be a fresh start where he’d remain an acquaintance at best, and ‘that one guy who always comes in and gets way too trashed’ at worst. He could do this; totally.  
He just really needed to pregame first. 

“You sure this is a good idea--” Lance started to say in what Keith took as probably the most skeptical way possible. 

“It’s a  _ great _ idea.” Came the retort even Keith himself wasn’t sold on, spoken in a gruff tone of voice that followed the knocking back of two shots. If he was going to see Shiro, he needed to be prepared, and preferably not an overly anxious mess; and if he was going to pull that off, he needed to pregame. 

“You’re gonna be trashed before we even get there…”

“Shut up and take your keys. You’re driving.” Keith shoved Lance’s car keys against his chest, frowning in irritation at just how many dangling things he had attached to them. Seriously, they took up Keith’s entire palm. But he didn’t dare ask about the ever-growing collection of weird charms, since Lance had already told him once they were for ‘good luck’ and it made Keith wonder just how gullible Lance was to any cute store clerk. Scratch that, he didn’t wonder. 

He fidgeted the entire ride there, checking his hair and then chastising himself for caring. He wasn’t going to flirt. He was barely going to talk to Shiro at all. He was just going to go up to the bar, order a drink while looking into the most perfect set of eyes he’d ever seen, get a load of the best smile in the damn galaxy to match, and--

Die. He was going to die. 

Deep breaths, Keith told himself.

The jingle of little bells signaled their entry to Altea as well as Keith’s funeral, probably. Despite the artificial lighting that dimly lit the place, Keith’s gaze honed in immediately on the bar, taking in Shiro’s form privately for just a few seconds before he continued inside. The man was preoccupied with another customer, his straight white teeth exposed in an easy smile as words just out of Keith’s reach were exchanged. 

He wore a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows and showcasing one perfectly defined forearm as well as his right bionic one. Shiro was just as gorgeous as he’d always been, despite the scar across the bridge of his nose that made Keith’s stomach drop in concern and his forelock of hair dyed white. They were minor differences, in the grand scheme of things. The most important detail being that Shiro was alive and breathing and for so many months Keith thought he’d never see that again. Reaching up hesitantly, his fingers brushed over the ghost of his past in the form of a bite mark scar on the back of his neck. There was no sensation that came from it. Of course there wouldn’t be. A broken bond was intended to be forgotten. 

“Hey-- what can I get you guys?” Shiro spoke nonchalantly, cleaning out the inside of a cup with a rag as Keith and Lance took seats at the bar; and Keith was totally going to play it cool but those shots from earlier were catching up to him and holy shit Shiro really was  _ stunning _ .

“Uh...Hi.” Was his genius response. He was about five seconds away from realizing he was blatantly staring and dealing with the inevitable embarrassment that would set in when Shiro smiled at him again and actually laughed. 

“Hey.” He glanced at Lance. “Who’s your friend?” Keith forgot for a second as Shiro spoke that, unlike him, all of his other friends had already reintroduced themselves and wanted to jump off the nearest building. He also wanted to down the closest liquor bottle at having to hear those words come out of Shiro’s mouth in relation to him.  _ Who’s your friend? _ Shit, that sucked… Lance tossed an arm around his shoulder, going into what Keith could tell was full blown wingman mode. 

“This is Keith-- I dragged him out tonight ‘cause he spends too much time cooped up in his living room watching Ancient Aliens.” Keith shot him a glare, shrugging his friend’s arm off. 

“I finished that, actually.” 

“Yeah, but I bet you rewatch it--” Lance’s teasing was cut off by Shiro who had raised a brow and turned his gaze back to Keith.

“Aliens, huh?” His lips pulled up into the slightest side smirk that shot a jolt through Keith right down to his damn core. Really, a look like that should’ve been illegal. Still, hot as fuck or not, Keith wasn’t going to let himself be ganged up on and teased.

“Damn right. I’m also in the business of questioning the moon landing, sue me.” He shrugged, leaning one elbow on the bar as Shiro laughed in response. It was husky and sexy and holy shit Keith needed to tone his thirst down by at least five thousand. 

“What can I get you to drink, Conspiracy Theorist?” 

“Whiskey Sour?”

“You got it.” Shiro turned to grab the appropriate bottle, giving Lance the perfect opportunity to waggle his brows suggestively at Keith (which he would have ignored with better luck if he didn’t feel his cheeks heating slightly). It was the alcohol. Obviously. Good thing there was more on the way. When Shiro handed him the drink, Keith’s heart skipped a beat at the brush of their fingers.

“So, you don’t come in much, right? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” Shiro said it as good naturedly as possible and Keith knocked back his drink in two gulps. 

“Nope. You heard Lance, I’m a hermit.” Setting his glass back down onto the counter, Keith swirled it slightly to make the ice cubes clink together. Looking back up, he forced himself to ask the question that would forever pin his position in this scenario. He wasn’t the grieving boyfriend trying to chase lost memories. He was Keith; some guy in a bar that Shiro was meeting for the first time. “What’s… uh, what’s your name?” His hesitation could be chalked up to his buzz; and he was getting a damn good one. 

“Takashi Shirogane-- everyone just calls me Shiro though, see?” A single bionic finger pointed to the nametag that did in fact read ‘SHIRO’, one Keith should have realized sooner if he hadn’t gotten distracted by the man’s brick wall of a chest and shoulders. 

“Shiro, then.” Keith’s voice was softer than he had intended, the fog in his mind growing to an increasingly pleasant sensation that teetered on the edge of being full blown drunk. He supposed in retrospect that knocking back around three shots before coming to bar and then downing the first drink might not have been the best course of action. But then again his intent had been to not be anxious and currently he could at least say he definitely was not. Shiro poured him another drink when he asked and brushed their fingers again; Keith shifted in his seat. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but… You have beautiful eyes, Keith.” Said eyes looked up to make contact with Shiro’s as he leaned both elbows up on the counter, chin in his palms and smirking. 

“You’d have to try harder to make me uncomfortable.”

“It’s like there’s an entire galaxy in them…” Keith didn’t know if the space reference was a small jab from their earlier conversation about Ancient Aliens, or if Shiro was really waxing poetic at him across the bar. In any case, in the depths of his mind he knew he should put a stop to this; he should laugh off Shiro’s compliment, grab his check, and leave the bar. That’s what he’d planned to do. But truth be told Keith was starved for this light and flirty conversation with the man of his dreams and so he reasoned that one night of it was probably harmless.

“You’re ignoring customers to stare at my galaxies?” Keith raised a playful brow.

“I’m not ignoring customers--” Just as Shiro began to defend himself, a patron called out to him from down the bar about wanting a drink. “I’m ignoring  _ one _ customer.” Keith couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up in response to that, glancing to the side of him only to find out that somewhere in the past however many minutes, Lance had ditched him. The cheater. 

One more drink had Keith laughing and smiling at everything Shiro said to him, letting his eyes drift down over him whenever the man would be torn away to pour a drink for someone else. 

Two drinks had Keith leaning over the counter to trail fingers down Shiro’s inhuman arm.

“I think it’s cool.” He said.

“Most people think it’s weird.” Shiro responded with an amused arch to his brow.

“Is it cliche to tell you I’m not most people?” 

“You didn’t seem like you were.” 

They stared at each other for a length of time that Keith couldn’t accurately recount, but it was somewhere between five and twenty full seconds; enough for Keith to recommit all of Shiro’s facial features to memory and linger his gaze on Shiro’s lips. 

Three drinks had Keith throwing his previous plans to the wind.

“When are you off?” Keith asked before his mind could catch up with his mouth. 

“An hour.” Shiro’s voice was as simply pleasant as his answers. To the point, straight forward. That’s the kind of man he was. 

“Fuck me.” It was tactless, forward, and hasty. But people hooked up and had one night stands in bars every night. It wasn’t that out of place. Certainly wouldn’t be considered weird to Shiro since he didn’t have a basis for the type of man Keith was. That’s right, he reminded himself as if he could ever forget.  _ He doesn’t know me. _

“You’re drunk.” Keith saw Shiro’s gaze fall to his lips.

“Not that drunk.” He countered.

“Drunk enough.” 

“Are you rejecting me?” In a subconscious motion, Keith tilted his head in a way that exposed his throat to Shiro yet maintained eye contact. It was a textbook move of submission from an Omega to an Alpha (or from whoever to whoever, second gender roles be damned). Keith saw Shiro’s eyes move to the column of his throat, saw his pupils dilate ever so slightly. Having his guard down like this would have allowed his scent to be produced much more freely than normal, and even if Shiro didn’t remember their previous position, Keith had no doubt his body would still respond to Shiro down to his very molecules as  _ his _ Alpha. 

“How about…” Shiro said steadily, ignoring the previous question and reaching out to tuck a lock of Keith’s hair behind his ears. His fingers trailed down just enough to press at the scent gland behind his ear. Keith shivered, lips falling open wordlessly. “...I just take you home?”  
“That much of a gentleman, huh?” As if Keith expected anything less.

“Don’t worry, you’re really testing it…”

By the end of the hour, Keith felt as if his entire body were being lit on fire from the inside out. This was especially prominent when Shiro looped an arm around his waist to help him stand properly. When did he get so drunk? Oh yeah, when he was in the middle of trying and failing to bury his heart under six gallons of alcohol. 

The cool night air hit Keith’s face in a rush, though it wasn’t long until they were seated in Shiro’s older black car. Keith took a steadying breath as he sunk into the worn upholstery only to be knocked with another scent-- this one heavier, muskier, yet fresh all the same; like the comforting warmth of a leather chair positioned in a forest fresh from rain. It was Shiro; it was home. Keith turned and leaned towards him, lips ghosting over Shiro’s neck and inhaling him directly. Scenting was something he hadn’t done in ages, and he missed it. Missed this.

“Keith…” His name on Shiro’s lips caused a soft moan to escape him, nuzzling against the source of Shiro’s scent further. It was weird, he thought in some depths of his sane mind, to be leaning over the center console and scenting a man who had (in his mind) just met him. Keith should stop, he knew this, but he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t--. “ _ Keith _ .” 

He stopped. 

The tone Shiro used was unmistakably  _ Alpha, _ and it had Keith moving back a few inches though he still had nothing but desire in his eyes. In a sense, it hurt to have that voice used on him, it caused to him feel disobedient, guilty by default; all things that pissed him off about it. When they’d been together, Keith had always gotten angry if Shiro went alpha on him like that. Now-- he still didn’t like it but it brought a sense of comfort with it that he’d take over his pride. 

Shiro kept talking when all Keith did was stare, though his reaction must have been in his eyes. 

“Shit-- I’m…” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that, I just… I’m really trying to do the right thing with you here. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of you as--”

“As an Alpha? Because I’m an Omega, right?” Shiro sighed again. 

“ _ No _ . As a decent person. Look--” Shiro reached out, taking Keith’s jaw in his hands and tilting it toward him. Wordlessly, Shiro brought their lips together in a soft but deep kiss that was everything Keith had been wanting for a year and a half but not nearly enough to quell even the smallest part of him. “--you’re really attractive, but you’re also really drunk. It’d be too easy to let myself go… especially when you smell so good… So, will you let me be a good guy, please?” As if Keith would ever be able to say no to that genuine smile, even if it meant there was (still) no knot in his near future.

“Yeah…” It was all he could get out for a minute before he sat back and flung an arm over his eyes, groaning in frustration. “Holy shit I’m gonna be so embarrassed tomorrow I can already feel it. Just-- forget you met me--” The words came out before he could stop them, and it took all of Keith’s willpower not to follow it up with  _ again _ . Still, he hated himself for the sentiment at all. Shiro was silent beside him as he continued to drive towards the address Keith had given him in the bar. 

“I don’t want to. I’ve...actually had enough of forgetting things.” After Shiro spoke, Keith felt like the ground he was treading on was paper thin. 

“Got a bad memory?” It was a sick joke. 

“Something like that.” 

When Keith got home he wished his bed would swallow him whole, along with the laundry that’d been piling up for weeks and the feelings he didn’t want to have.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter is going to be prefaced by a song in this genre, sue me. But also listen to Mr. Brightside and think of any of your otps ever then cry for as long as you need to.

"It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

It was only a kiss."

-The Killers

Keith woke up feeling as if over the course of a night gravity had turned on its head, causing every minuscule shift he made to threaten his very livelihood. His head was pounding in an unforgiving cadence and sitting upright was almost entirely out of the question. He was hungover. Like, _really_ hung over, and as if that weren’t enough, he felt achy and chilled meaning he was probably coming down with the flu.

Great.

Keith rolled to his side as gingerly as possible, showing off the fact that the other side of his bed was cold and empty. _Just like always,_ he thought, and then corrected it with a follow up of _now_. He let his eyes fall shut, a part of him not wanting to see the vacant space beside him and another part knowing almost for certain that the room was only a millisecond away from spinning.

The events of last night came crashing back to him, causing Keith to groan in both frustration and embarrassment. He wanted to say he couldn’t believe that being alone with Shiro for less than a minute had made him _scent_ the man-- but he would be lying. Hell, that’s what he’d dreamt about. Amongst of course the visualizations and memories of every time they’ve fucked. Which was a lot. And the knowledge of how in the past that was only made Keith pull a pillow up over his head.

But the one thing that had his heart pounding despite the impending nausea was remembering how Shiro’s lips had pressed against his; so familiar yet foreign in their conduct. No matter how much Keith wanted to chastise himself for allowing his drunk ass that close to Shiro, he wouldn’t be able to hide his joy over the act. It was like for over a year Keith had felt like a forest slowly having the life sucked away from him. Or maybe it wasn’t slow at all. It was more like the minute Shiro walked out the door he’d taken Keith’s oxygen supply with him and last night was the first moment in almost two years that he’d been able to breathe.

Goddamn, he was too sappy for his own good.

Turning over, Keith patted around the expanse of his mattress for his cell phone, squinting at the obtrusive brightness that blared in his face subsequently. Not only was it one in the afternoon and an hour after he was supposed to be at work, but there was a missed call from both Pidge and Lance, as well as text messages he didn’t want to answer. The first voicemail was Lance sounding smug as all hell and asking Keith how he felt that morning. Keith deleted it before it even finished. The second was Lance (still in teasing tone) telling Keith that just because he was getting old and couldn’t bounce back like he did when they were sixteen, didn’t mean Keith could skip work. The third was Lance just yelling at Keith to get his lazy ass out of bed.

He groaned.

Sitting up came with its own slew of hardship, and Keith could have sworn that his feet were somehow made from cement blocks with how they fell against the shitty hardwood floor beside his bed. He blinked, rubbing at the sleep that had collected in his eyes overnight, and switched over to his texts.

[Pidge: Lance said you’re late for work and thinks you’re ignoring him. Only texting because he threatened to pour water on my laptop.]

Keith rolled his eyes, but decided she deserved a response.

[Keith: lance is dramatic, whats new. Just rlly hungover]

The next texts were a series from Lance himself.

[Lance: Goodmornin buddy!]

[I know you think I ditched you last night, but that’s only because I ditched you last night.]

[With noble intentions]

[Keith?]

[C’monnnnn, earth to Keith! Wake up!]

[You’re gonna be late for work]

[I’m telling Pidge on you.]

Keith couldn’t help the minuscule smile that pulled up his lips at the last part. Honestly, it wouldn’t matter if they were still in highschool or had graduated over five years ago, his friends never changed. It was a constant in his life that Keith had come to unabashedly depend on over the past year and half. Things that didn’t change. Things that didn’t disappear right from under his feet. They mattered to him probably enough to be considered unhealthy but he’d always been a guy with his vices anyways and didn’t give enough of a shit about it to seek out a change in course. His coping methods weren’t affecting anyone aside from himself, after all.

The next text he saw was from an unknown number that made his heart lurch.

[Unknown: Hey Keith, this is Shiro. I wanted to apologize for last night. How are you feeling?]

At that moment, about a million and one things were crash landing into the forefront of Keith’s mind. How did Shiro get his number? When? What the hell was _he_ apologizing for? And, most importantly, how the hell did Shiro get his number? Did he already mention that? He didn’t care. Keith’s heartbeat seemed to double as he tried to sort through a menagerie of possibilities in his mind. Like, maybe he’d been so trashed to the point where he didn’t remember giving it out. Or maybe, in his thirsty ass state, he had passed the number to Shiro and said something really embarrassing about fucking him later and oh my god he was going to burn up from potential secondhand embarrassment before he ever even knew the answer.

Getting out of bed, however, was what he first focused on. Keith practically threw the covers off of him, causing a chill to run up his spine. His skin was clammy and he felt colder than usual; a fever with his outstanding luck. He pushed his fingers through the unruly mop that was his hair and made his way to the bathroom where a splash of water over his face and haphazard brushing of his teeth for less than a minute would have to suffice as the morning’s hygiene. Was he going to text Shiro back? No. Well-- yes? Maybe. Maybe would do for now until he figured out the context of how the man had gotten his number in the first place.

His best bet was on Lance, though.

  


Coming into work had been much more arduous to say the least. By the time Keith was halfway there, it was no longer a doubt in his mind that he was running a fever. Shitty part was, calling out an hour and a half into his shift after drinking the night before because he ‘had the flu’ would fly just about as well as he could expect: not well at all. It didn’t help that his boss, Coran, was such a ‘back in my day’ hardass about work ethic that he doubted it would have even worked on a good day.

When he’d first gotten a job at Quiznak’s, one of the most popular diners in town, Coran had genuinely bugged the ever loving shit out of Keith. So much so in fact that he’d debated on quitting multiple times after hearing the same speech on the technique of wiping down a table. Tables that apparently he’d built however many years ago with his father who’d passed down a legendary way to hold a rag. Keith was also exaggerating just a little bit but it was still pretty damn close to what he heard on a daily basis.

In any case, the moment he walked in, Lance was there to supply him with a voice that was way too loud for the headache he was sporting.

“Well look who it is! Keith ‘I Don’t Answer My Phone’ Kogane!” Said Keith did nothing but continue walking and frown at Lance’s comment.

“That’s not my middle name.”

“I--” Lance began, deadpanning in Keith’s direction before following him. “It’s called a _joke_. Y’know, the things I make all the--” Lances voice was cut off immediately as he moved closer to Keith, sniffing at him in a way that had Keith frowning.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You smell...funny.”

“I didn’t have time to shower!” He moved back slightly, out of the reach of Lance’s nose that weirdly scrunched with every sniff like he was half rabbit.

“No, it’s not that it’s--” His eyes widened, grabbing Keith by the arm and all but dragging him into the back room and barely missing Coran’s gaze in the process. “When are you supposed to… _y’know_?” No, he really didn’t know. In fact, Keith was definitely one of the worst people to talk to if you expected them to catch onto things quickly. He wasn’t stupid, not by any means. But well… that didn’t mean he wasn’t an idiot.

“Uh-- when am I supposed to _what_? Shower? When I get home, I guess.”

“No-- Keith. Run with me on this. When’s your uh… your _time_ . Y’know, when you just don’t wanna leave the good ol’ _nest_ of home? Feelings get all tied up in a _knot_ ? Huh?” Keith was almost too distracted by Lance suggestively elbowing him to keep up but when he did, he froze. No, no way. That wasn’t possible, was it? Keith checked the math in his head, he never had to worry about that more than three or so times a year. Depending on the stimulus around him maybe, _maybe_ that bitch mother nature would hit him up for another go around, but…

But he’d just had a heat two months ago.

“It’s not that… I just-- the other month. It’s too early.” It wasn’t necessarily that this subject was off limits between him and Lance; after all, they were both Omegas. But still it was mildly tabboo nowadays to talk so openly about your second gender. Especially for Omega men; which was admittedly bullshit and if any asshole wanted to come near Keith and insinuate that he was weaker than anyone else just because he knew how to take a dick, he’d shove his foot up their ass and teach them a lesson that Alphas had it in them to bottom too.

Lance didn’t seem convinced by the unlikely timeframe, however, as his lips downturned into a skeptical frown and he sniffed by Keith’ shoulder once more for good measure before Keith shoved him away.

“Look--” Lance started, holding his hands up as if in surrender. “--I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying I know that smell. You would too if it were me.”

“It’s just the hangover flu or something, Lance. There’s no reason I’d get another heat so quickly.” They were both quiet for a moment, Keith hoping that Lance would drop the subject and he’d be able to do a mental check on all his body parts to try and dispel the notion himself. Subconsciously, he shifted in place, letting out a small breath of relief that his ass was still in fact dry.

“Oh my god-- It’s Shiro.” That got Keith’s attention.

“What?” He asked, annoyed now.

“ _Shiro_! How close did you get to him last night?”

Hazy images of Keith with his lips pressed against Shiro’s neck as he inhaled his scent like it was the only thing keeping him alive passed through his mind. The feeling of Shiro’s lips on his after so long it should’ve been illegal. The velvet tenor of Shiro’s Alpha voice as it reverberated to Keith’s very core.

Shit.

He turned away from Lance, doing everything in his power to not go into a full-blown panic at the now very real possibility that his traitor of a body was going into heat just from brief contact with Shiro alone. If that wasn’t the gayest thing he’d ever heard in his life (and he’d overheard Lance having shitty phone sex one night), then he didn’t know what was. And it was just his luck for something like this to happen. For his body to get beneath the bare minimum of everything its been craving and then send itself into a spiral of what would only be torture.

Because heats without an Alpha were bad enough; they were whining and having your dick so hard it made you cry. They were sweating yourself into dehydration and feeling like you were genuinely going to lose your mind if you didn’t get fucked into the next dimension right that second. But heats where your body knew exactly what it was missing were even worse.

“I…” He tried to answer Lance while also attempting to steady his breath. If this was happening, he could handle it. Albeit he didn’t doubt it’d get so painful he’d wish someone would just cut his dick off, but he could handle it. After all, he’d endured his first bonded heat without Shiro over a year ago, and Keith really doubted there could ever be anything as agonizingly soul crushing as that. “I scented him because I was trashed, and-- holy shit I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“I gotta go home… Maybe Coran won’t fire me for missing the next week?” Keith dragged a hand over his face in irritation.

“Are you gonna call Shiro?” Was he going to _what_?

“What-- no! Why the hell would I-- wait so it _was_ you that gave him my number!?” He didn’t want to start arguing with Lance in the back room of their shitty job, but it was like Keith could feel his reactions spiking in severity with every passing second and he internally tried to dial it down to no avail. Lance held his hands up again.

“I was worried about you! And after I left last night and couldn’t get a hold of you this morning I figured maybe you went home with him so--”

“So you gave him a link to me that I didn’t want him to have! Lance--” He was cut off.

“Oh, I know you would have jumped his knot if you stopped letting yourself be an idiot! I don’t even get this-- why can’t you just be honest with him again? This is Shiro we’re talkin’ about! You know-- mister stand-up guy? Mister loved the shit out of you?” It was everything Keith didn’t want to hear or deal with right now or ever. He knew that. He knew Shiro loved him, he wasn’t that stupid. Or, well… he knew that he used to love him. But Keith also knew that Shiro had been roped into a lot of things that he firmly believes the man would have opted out of if given the chance. The very chance that Keith was giving him now.

Shiro didn’t have to be in love with a guy who couldn’t give him a family, or who didn’t want to grow up from the party days of doing lines off each other in a dirty ass club bathroom. And part of it was his own sick masochism, he knew that. Feeling sorry for his shortcomings didn’t do shit to change them, Keith knew that too. But the thing was he wasn’t trying to. He liked his life for the most part. And yeah, he loved Shiro with a love stronger than the heat of the fucking sun, but he’d be the first to say that man deserved leagues better than Keith would have ever provided. Keith, the high school problem child and college dropout. The guy whose life looked like it was going to be spent in a minimum wage job with nothing notable to call his own for the rest of his life; stuck in a stagnant existence while Shiro deserved the stars.

So he yelled at Lance when he shouldn’t have because this was already hard enough without being told he should ruin Shiro’s life and hold him back all over again, even if every nerve in his body were begging him to do just that.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! Just-- do me a favor and _stay out of it_ , Lance! And tell Coran I went home. If he wants to fire me then _fine_.”

The ride back to his apartment was one spent dangerously weaving in and out of traffic with little regard to the fact that a crash at the speed he was going would be lethal, and feeling like his phone with Shiro’s unanswered text message was burning a hole into his pocket. He should just go home, smoke a bowl, and try to sleep through as much of the early onsets of his heat as possible. Fuck knows once the thing fully set in he wouldn’t be getting more than a couple interrupted hours here and there.

Keith sighed. He _really_ wasn’t looking forward to this.

  


[Unknown: Hey Keith, this is Shiro. I wanted to apologize for last night. How are you feeling?]

Keith stared at the message again once he was home and safely in the comfort of his old ripped sweatpants and double futon mattresses that had been long since broken in by sex he wasn’t getting anymore. His eyes scanned every letter of each word in the short text over and over again until he was certain he could hear it being spoken in Shiro’s voice.

Deep in a box of memories he’d categorized as ‘not helpful to think about’, Keith remembered all the heats he’d previously had with Shiro at his side. Mostly he thought about the first one he’d gone through after they bonded. To say it was intense would have been an understatement. His body alone had caused Shiro to go into a rut and after the first few times they fucked, Keith couldn’t remember if they’d even stopped much to eat for an entire week. Just the thought had Keith’s heart aching in his chest. But he tried to shove the thoughts back despite their attempts to overwhelm him; it wasn’t like they already weren’t there as a constant reminder in his daily life of everything he’d lost. Still, it was the small and vulnerable part of him that clicked on the space to type a reply; that would try to keep his distance but couldn’t resist having contact with him even if it were just a stupid text.

[Keith: feel like shit...but if anyone should apologize, its me. so, sorry. got embarrassingly sloppy, huh?] He set his phone down after hitting send, not expecting Shiro to text him back promptly if at all considering the original message had been sent hours before Keith had even woken up. Yet despite the assumption, his phone buzzed not even two minutes later.

[Shiro: Too hungover for your own good? Lol. I’m apologizing because of the kiss. Or do you not remember it?] Keith could tell Shiro was teasing him with the last line, could almost see the amused arch of his brow in his mind’s eye, the subtle upturn at the corner of his lip.

[Keith: I remember it.]

[just didn’t think you had to feel bad about it]

[I said shit that was way cringey]

So cringey in fact that he wanted to hide his face and never see Shiro again (a blatant lie). But really, he heard himself asking Shiro to fuck him outright while they were staring at each other from across a bar and felt his face flush at the memory alone.

[Shiro: You were drunk; I wasn’t.] Oh my god Shiro was still such a nerd who uses proper punctuation to the point of semicolons in a text? Keith wondered this but still smiled just by seeing it. It was something so simple yet so undeniably _Shiro_ that it put Keith at ease. No matter what happened, no matter what he remembered or had forgotten, Shiro was the same.

[Keith: ok mr noble. Well, I didn’t mind, hows that?] He shouldn’t be flirting he shouldn’t be flirting.

[Shiro: Relieving. Honestly, with how incredible you smelled I realized just how good my self control is.] Shiro still thought he smelled good. It wasn’t a farfetched idea. Keith had been picked up on by numerous Alphas throughout his life all telling him as much; he knew he was desirable. Still, there was a certain smugness that came with being wiped from your mate’s memories and yet still being desired by them. Keith moved his fingers to respond, shifting in his bed and swallowing thickly. His body felt like it was getting hot again, but he ignored it.

Was it possible to fuck around with the guy you used to be bonded to? ‘Probably not’ was the logical answer Keith’s brain supplied for him and yet he wrote his next text anyways.

[Keith: if u had found out the opposite, i would’ve woken up in a better mood]

[Shiro: If you had come onto me sober, I would have given you what you wanted.] This was a dangerous game.

[Keith: What I wanted?] But he couldn’t stop his fingers from moving. Everything he’d had before was here in front of him, held within the screen of his cell phone and call it the slight anonymity and subsequent confidence boost, but Keith wanted to indulge. Wanted to goad Shiro into showing him even just a sliver of his dominant side. Keith felt the need he same way his fingers fidgeted for his blade when he needed a line; Shiro was like a narcotic to him and Keith wasn’t a strong enough man to look that in the eye and tell it ‘no’.

[Shiro: I took one look at you and knew you were a filthy little knot slut.] Holy. Mother. Of. God. Keith felt the blood drain away from his fingers in that instant, rushing to his cock that had just received the memo to wake the hell up. The memories felt so vivid Keith knew he’d be able to get off untouched in the middle of a heat just by thinking about them:

Shiro grabbing him by the hips roughly, pulling Keith back onto his cock over and over again. Shiro slapping his ass hard enough to welt and using that term on him… knot slut. Fuck, and he _so was_.

Reaching his hand down, Keith hesitated on whether to breach the waistband of his sweatpants, knowing the second he started getting off his heat would overtake him in full force. If he held off, he might be able to keep it down for another day… Maybe get one full night’s rest before Satan’s Hell of Horniness set up shop in his dick. Shiro took the silence as a bad thing.

[Shiro: Too much?] God, Keith didn’t know how such a perfect Adonis motherfucker still had it in him to be self conscious.

[Keith: No-- fuck no. You got me hard just reading it.] Was he… were they sexting? Is that was this was? Keith had done a lot of shit in his life, but this was an area he wasn’t familiar with in the least. Maybe on the phone; god knows him and Shiro had messed around whenever they’d been apart, but just texts? It left him at a loss.

[Shiro: Are you going to take care of it for me, Keith?] Jesus Christ Keith wasn’t strong enough for this.

[Keith: depends. It’d be a lot better hearing you tell me exactly what to take care of.]

[Shiro: Yeah?]

[Keith: yea] Two minutes passed, and each second was confidence in this area trickling down step by step. Despite the fact that he was now very noticeably hard over the thought of hearing Shiro’s voice groaning and coming apart in his ear, his heartbeat sped at having to wait. Was Shiro second guessing? Should Keith be doing this at all? Probably and no were his answers. But sometimes Keith was good at avoiding things. His phone rang just as he checked to see how many minutes had passed since he’d been waiting, and he let it ring almost too many times before finally getting it together and swiping his finger across the screen. Within seconds, there was no room in his body left for regret.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice sounded like sex on silk, and it caused Keith’s lips to fall open.

“Yeah… I’m here.” His breathing was still relatively normal, yet Keith could swear he heard his heart in his ears.

“Good. Now-- how fast do you think you can come for me?” Shit, he didn’t beat around the bush. Still, a breathy laugh escaped Keith’s lips as he closed his eyes, situating himself so that his length was pulled from his sweats and lay heavy against his lower stomach.

“You putting me on a time limit?” Shiro laughed at that.

“Well, I’m in a supply closet at work, actually…”

“Oh, that’s hot.” Keith trailed off for a second after his teasing comment, warring with himself on whether he should bring out the big guns or play it cool. Then again, he knew exactly what Shiro liked and it would be nothing short of a disservice if he didn’t provide. “You gonna bust all over bottles of Vodka, Daddy?” Keith heard Shiro’s sharp, surprised intake of breath, as if the wind had been knocked out of his lungs and brought back with a low rumble in the back of his throat. When he spoke, his voice was lower, huskier and speaking directly to Keith’s weeping cock.

“Whiskey, actually.”

“Just how I like it, a whiskey sour.” Shiro chuckled.

“That’s disgusting.”

“You’re right-- I’d rather have your knot shoved down my throat.” This time, Shiro groaned unmistakably, and Keith forgot what it felt like to affect such a dominant Alpha like Shiro to these sorts of extents. It was power trip he’d never quite get used to.

“You have a dirty enough mouth for it. Are you going to stroke yourself, Keith, or do I have to make you?” Instead of a warning, Keith saw it as an open invitation.

“Make me, Daddy.” Even though he had his fingers wrapped around his turgid length, squeezing them just under his head and watching as clear fluid leaked from his slit. When Shiro used his Alpha voice, it went directly to Keith’s groin this time.

“Fuck into your hand for me. You can do that, right? You can be my good boy.” Shit, that was good. Keith did as he was told, thrusting his hips up into his hand and shamelessly moaning into the phone’s receiver. The friction lit his nerves on fire as if each and every individual one was a live wire but it still wasn’t enough. He could feel himself beginning to ache from the inside out and knew damn well it was nothing his fingers would be able to reach. This was his heat coming on just as he knew it would, and Keith was meeting it head on.

“God...shit..!” It was the best he could get out: a series of expletives and panting that was no doubt beginning to fog up the bottom half of his phone screen. The feeling of emptiness within him grew, and Keith heard his voice take on the uncharacteristic sound of a whine at it. Desperation seemed to claw up his spine as he sped up his thrusts, spurred on further by Shiro’s huffs and groans in his ear and the distant yet prominent sound of his hand moving over himself.

“Just like that, Keith… You’re doing so well… Are you close?” Keith nodded in response, his brain delayed in realizing that Shiro couldn’t see him before he tried to speak once more. As he shifted, Keith felt slick beginning to seep from his ass and down the insides of his thigh causing him to openly pant.

“Yeah… Yeah, god… I’d fucking kill for your knot right now… Just fuck me until I can’t move and fill me up until I can taste your come on my tongue. Shiro, ah shit, _fuck--_!” His orgasm was a taught coil that sprung loose all at once and yet caused enough waves to seemingly crash over him endlessly. Keith felt hot release splatter over his hand and up to his chest, his cock jerking in his hand enough to look like it were spasming. What kept him on the euphoric train past his own climax was the sound of Shiro losing himself in his ear, groans transforming into what Keith could only consider a feral growl. It sounded too damn hot for its own good, and Keith spilled more into his hand just from listening.

His eyes remained shut as he listened to their breathing beginning to even out, feeling himself only moments away from drifting into a temporarily sated half sleep.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Shiro’s voice had Keith cradling his cellphone closer to his ear, and he smiled lightly.

“Not a chance. Was that fast enough for you?”

“Pretty fast.” Keith almost wanted to be offended by that, but he could hear the amusement in Shiro’s voice so he guessed he’d let it slide. “Sorry I can’t be there to clean you up.” It was such a simple statement and really dumb of him, but Keith couldn’t help the way his heart warmed at the prospect of being cared for by an Alpha again. But not just any Alpha, his-- No. He corrected himself.

Not his Alpha anymore.

“I’m pretty independant.”

“I don’t doubt it.” And a silence hung between them for a number of seconds in which Keith imagined himself in a fairy tale where Shiro was laying beside him and still remembered things like where they went for their first date, and how Keith looked wearing his clothes that were two sizes too big for him. Shiro broke the quiet. “I gotta get back to work; if you need anything, text me, okay?”

Well, he was definitely going to be in need of something with the hormonal clusterfuck that was brewing within him. But Keith was a martyr who thought he could handle the world on his shoulders and a lack of necessary knot in his ass and so the only thing he said was:

“Yeah, thanks.” And hung up the phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I bring myself is sadness. I also don't have a beta for this story fyi, and i'm very impatient so I tend to bust these out in one sitting. Anyways, if there's typos please rest assured that I'll go back and fix them c:

I breathe you in, but honey

I don’t know what you’re doin’ to me

Mon chérie

The truth catches up to us eventually.

-Fall Out Boy: Irresistible

 

Keith woke up in the exact state that he expected, which was a sweaty panting mess. His violet eyes blinked into an attempted focus as he licked at his too-dry lips. Water. He definitely needed some water, and--

Holy shit he was so damn hard.

Keith had only just begun to shift underneath his covers that were suddenly too obtrusive and yet not as all-encompassing as he needed them to be when he noticed the _issue_ . Something as simple as the fabric dragging over his groin had caused his back to arch and an embarrassing moan to find its way out of his throat. It didn’t hurt-- not yet, but Keith knew he’d soon be more than on his way there and just the thought of having to do this alone _again_ had him curling in on himself.

" _Deep breaths..."_ Keith panted into his pillowcase as he tried to focus on his own words. It would be so much easier if they weren’t muddled and becoming drowned out by his damn heartbeat pulsing in his ears and his dick at the same time. He needed something to take the edge off-- something to make the week seem like it could even potentially be bearable.

He started by wrapping a hand around his cock. The groan that reverberated from his chest seemed like it ricocheted from all angles of his room at once. Intense pleasure barely described the electric current that ran up his spine at the touch alone, though despite the way his length twitched in his hand and began to weep clear fluid, it didn’t compare to the growing sense of _emptiness_ he felt in the depths of himself. As if to accentuate that little detail, Keith felt slick seep out of him, pooling under his ass and soaking into sheets that he was probably going to have to throw away once this was all over.

Typically, Omegas couldn’t smell their own scent, and Keith was thankful for that little tidbit because he didn’t want to know what he would smell like to anyone right now. Was it possible to encapsulate this level of loneliness and desperation into an aroma? Or was he being dramatic again? Probably the latter, he rationalized, moving his hand faster over himself as he free one clutched the black sheets in a vice.

He came apart as quickly as he had begun, but the milky fluid that shot from the tip of him was copious, more so than was typical. Keith moaned open-mouthed with his eyes shut and his ass begging fruitlessly to be filled as his release splattered up onto his chest and covered his hand. It felt good but it wasn’t enough and Keith needed a blunt.

Despite the fact that his body wasn’t anywhere near done with indulging, Keith wasted no time in swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Forcing himself up even when he shivered and wavered in place. He should rest, take it easy, he knew that. But the weed he’d gotten from Lance was all the way in his living room and Keith wouldn’t be caught dead going through this heat sober.

Slick trailed down his inner thighs, seeping through his pajama pants as he walked the short distance and flopped down on his couch. Mindlessly, he reached for what Lance had labeled ‘Baggy O’ Bud’ and rolled his eyes. Cracking open the plastic let loose a scent that had Keith trying to relax into preemptively. He packed his black pipe that swirled with enough glitter to make it look like he had the milky way trapped in a piece of glass.

Like the way Shiro had described his eyes as galaxies.

Keith lit up before that train of thought could go anywhere else. It felt good, better even, once the first few hits were in his system. He felt his limbs growing heavier, his blood coursing through his veins even though they all seemed to end in his dick. When he’d first presented, Keith had wondered just how the hell it was possible for the human body to have this type of bounce-back. Fuck knew he couldn’t get hard again within a minute of orgasm on a normal day. Now though, he glanced down at the very obvious tent in his pants and beading of fluid through the dark plaid material of his pajamas and cursed under his breath.

Instead of touching himself again, Keith lost count of how many bowls he smoked after four, and fumbled around for his phone which had buzzed some number of times while he’d been busy.

[Lance: hey man how you doin?] It had been sent over an hour ago, so Keith figured he might as well answer. After all, he definitely didn’t need a repeat of yesterday in which Lance (in an alleged state of worry) texted Shiro about him.

[Keith: fine i guess] It was a lie, Keith could practically feel his body begging him to do _something_ instead of sitting on his lazy ass ignoring the very real needs it was trying to convey. Lance texted back almost instantly.

[Lance: BS. Do you have food? Make sure you shower.]

[Keith: ok mom]

[Lance: Don’t be an asshole, I’m allowed to worry! Excuse me for not wanting to associate with a guy who reeks of sex.]

[Keith: lack of, more like]

[Lance: Your fault. You could call Shiro.] Just seeing his name written in a damn text had Keith squirming in his seat, his dick straining for attention it wasn’t going to get. Had any Omega ever successfully abstained through a heat? Keith knew the answer was ‘fuck no’, but with the fact that his sexual fantasies all revolved around the guy who didn’t even know his last name anymore, Keith wondered if the pain of waiting it out would outweigh the pain of one-sided memories. Maybe he could practice abstaining from things by not texting Lance back.

It lasted for three minutes.

[Lance: Orrrrr I can call him if you’re gonna be a chicken.]

[Keith: Lance I swear to god I would disown you. I’d tell your mom about all your pot too. Even your grandma.]

[Lance: DON’T BRING MY GRANDMA INTO THIS WTF?]

[Keith: Then leave Shiro out of it.]

[Lance: I can’t believe you’d bring up my grandma oh my god. She’d kill me you know.]

[Keith: So would I.]

[Lance: I mean literally. She’d LITERALLY KILL ME KEITH]

[Keith: Guess Shiro’s not getting a phone call then]

[Lance: I hope you get jizz on your face and it dries on your eyelid.]

[Keith: i’m goin back to bed. Grandmas watching you]

Sleeping, Keith found out relatively quickly, was almost impossible. He woke up more times than he could count, until the hours and minutes passing blended into one another in a disorienting blur. His lower stomach throbbed and his balls felt way too full to be normal. He knew he needed to get off-- on every level down to the very primal fibres in his bones, Keith knew it; and at some point throughout the day that had since turned to night, he gave in. Again, and again, and again. Until his sheets were soaked in his essence and his hair stuck to his forehead and neck in a layer of sweat.

It was overwhelming, mindless, Keith felt as if half the time he weren’t even fully lucid; but maybe that was all the pot he smoked earlier. He needed more, wished he had it right by his bed but he didn’t. It was back in the living room with his phone that he’d left out there for good measure. God knows if he could wake up already jerking off, he could probably wake up after dialing Shiro in a horny desire-induced delirium.

 

When he opened his eyes again, it was dark. Keith took note of the fact that this was the second time in a long span that he’d been met with the night sky out his window. So that must mean day two of his heat was coming to a close. He frowned, shifting in his blankets and array of pillows that curled around his body in a nest, and tried to shut his eyes once more. For a split second, the unforgiving demand of his hormones had ebbed, and it took another sound of pounding for Keith to realize what had woken him up. It was his front door.

“God dammit…” He muttered to himself. There was no way in hell he was answering the door in his current state. Who knew if whoever it could be was an Alpha he didn’t know? In this state, the door could easily be pushed from his grasp, and intruder could make their way inside. Though unlikely, it was a good enough reason for him to stay in bed.

It was at least until he felt a pull in his body to get the fuck up and answer it. And Keith mentally took note of the possibility that he was so desperate for sex his body was thrumming at the idea of getting it from even a stranger. How pathetic could one guy get? Still… He could get up, probably. And he could answer the door. He may fall down on the way or end up coming on the hallway wall spontaneously, but Keith Kogane was not the type of man that let something like a hormonal response bring him down.

He was also a prideful idiot, so there was that.

The walk to the living room this time was more difficult than it had been yesterday, but he guessed that having your ass exchanged for Niagara Falls of gush would do that. Did it sound disgusting? That’s because it was. Keith never understood the appeal of the stuff or why it drove Alphas nuts, but maybe that was a bit of a lie because Keith had never grown tired of that feral look Shiro got in his eyes when he watched the clear lubricant drip from Keith’s ass to the floor.

When he got to the door, he was panting on weak legs and leaned his forehead against it.

“...Who is it?” His voice sounded tired and hoarse.

“Keith? Are you there? It’s me, Shiro.” He’d never frozen so solid before in his life. Immediately, Keith’s heart felt as if it were on overdrive, threatening to beat directly out of his chest and open the damn door itself. Just that voice-- albeit muffled and quieted by the wood door between them, had his knees shaking and his dick springing to attention. Why the fuck was he here? Out of any time he could possibly show up? Keith’s thought flitted to Lance and he wondered if he was really going to have to get a new best friend and bury his old one. For now, though, he was currently at a loss of what to do or say, but knew he had to pull some semblance of words out of himself.

“Uh...Hi.” Genius.

“Do you always talk through the door?” Keith could hear the amusement in his tone again and it made Keith want to bulldoze said door and land face-first into Shiro’s chest.

“Sorry, I’m...sick.” It wasn’t a lie, technically. “Did you need something?” Shiro faltered at that.

“No-- I… It’s weird, actually I just sort of felt like… I should check up on you.” His voice was so earnest and unsure of itself, the latter something that Shiro should never have to feel in his entire life as far as Keith was concerned. Naturally, though, he tried to brush it off.

“Do you check up on every guy you get off with on the phone in a supply closet?”

“You’re the only guy I’ve ever gotten off with on the phone in a supply closet.” He was laughing now, and Keith tried not to feel triumphant in the fact that he at least had a piece of him imbedded in Shiro’s memory, and a first at that. Not that it was a frequent or common, endeavor, but he coveted it nonetheless.

“I’m honored--” He started to say before a pang of need shot through him, like his dick were reminding Keith it was still very much there and neglected. Keith groaned, his hand bracing himself against the door as a groan forced its way from his lips. Immediately, he felt his cheeks burn and hoped that Shiro hadn’t heard it. He wasn’t that lucky.

“Keith? Are you sure you’re okay?” He tried the door handle. Keith was starting to wonder just how strong his self control was. Every sound out of Shiro’s mouth was like goddamn liquid sex to him right now, and that was hearing it through a door. He’d probably orgasm just from hearing Shiro speak directly to him and even the thought had him leaking. This was bad, it was so bad that Keith envisioned Lance’s bloody and painful death (if he was behind this somehow) right beside a very vivid image of Shiro fucking him into next week.

It was too much, he couldn’t stand up anymore. Keith all but fell to the carpet with about as much grace as a newborn calf and felt the squelch of his slick as he landed. It was gross. He was so gross and Shiro was less than five feet away from him and oh god what the fuck was he supposed to do?

“I’m… I’m fine…” It was the least convincing line he’d said in his entire life. And he was always using it. He was fine when Shiro hadn’t come home in two days. Fine when it turned into a week, a month. He told Pidge he was fine when she gave him the news of the amnesia diagnosis. Fine when the bells had jingled his entrance to Altea a few days ago. Keith was always fine, he had to be. Until he wasn’t.

“ _Keith_.” Shiro’s tone had him biting into his hand hard to hold back a shameless moan. “Open the door.” He said in that Alpha voice that was unfair and made Keith feel like he was finally going insane. He couldn’t disobey. It was why he hated that being used on him so much and Shiro knew that-- no, he used to know that. But now he was nothing but helpless as he reached up to fumble with the lock and the handle and all he could think about was that maybe Shiro would get one whiff of him and turn on his heel. Because this was already embarrassing enough the last thing he’d need was Shiro’s pity, his sympathy. He couldn’t bear it if Shiro asked him ‘don’t you have and Alpha to help you?’ and Keith would have to say ‘not anymore’.

He opened the door because at his core he wasn't strong enough to resist Shiro. It swung open slowly, or perhaps that was Keith’s adrenaline making it move in slow motion but he looked up at Shiro and must have been the classic image of fucked out and in heat; and Keith could only _imagine_ the wall of scent that smacked into Shiro in that moment because he watched the man open his mouth to say something but stopped as he inhaled. Shiro’s pupils dilated as they honed in on him, reaching up to cover his nose and mouth with his hand.

“Jesus Christ, Keith…” It was a tone that Keith couldn’t quite place, but it was guarded and almost pained and Keith hoped it was from Shiro feeling just a sliver of the desire that was drowning him. He tried to get up but couldn’t, tried to speak but only a gasp for air would leave his lungs. Shiro smelled so damn good. It was everything he needed, just barely out of his reach, and Keith could feel his cognitive functions slowing, the instinct to move closer to the Alpha that towered over him and nuzzle into the protection and warmth he’d have to offer. Keith’s body told him he was moments away from being taken care of like he deserved and that notion alone infiltrated any other pervasive thoughts.

“I…” He was trying he really was. “Shiro…” But his voice came out as a whine and he smelled a spike in Shiro’s scent subsequently. Before he could properly discern what was happening, Shiro was leaning down and scooping Keith up into his arms, holding him against his chest.

“It’s okay, I got you. Where’s your room?” Keith’s eyes closed as Shiro spoke, his lips turning to the man’s neck where he inhaled deeply. He didn’t care about the intimacy that went along with scenting, or whether or not Shiro was seconds away from leaving him like he should. This wasn’t his concern. Definitely not his obligation. But Keith wanted to satiate himself as much as possible before that moment came. Sluggishly, he pointed Shiro in the direction of his bedroom, knowing when they entered it by the way Shiro’s grip on him tightened. Was it because the scent of his heat was so dense here? He knew back then that it’d overwhelm Shiro every time. That he never used to be able to come into their room when it was drenched in _Keith_ and not fuck him until they both passed out.

Softly, he felt himself being lowered down onto his mattress and panic struck at the mere thought of the safety of Shiro’s arms disappearing. He was being pathetic, a small part of his brain told him. Letting himself get to this needy deplorable state… It was natural, but not warranted. He should fight it harder, hold onto himself-- his stable sense of self harder. But it felt like it was slipping away with every throb of his dick so he clutched onto Shiro’s shoulder and clung to him, a soft sound leaving his lips as he did so. Shiro freed one hand to smooth back Keith’s hair still sticky from sweat, and hushed him in a tone that was so reassuring Keith felt his entire body relax.

“I said I got you, didn’t I? I was going to get you some water. Can I set you down?” Keith wondered idly how Shiro was able to maintain his composure in light of the scenario, and in his increasingly irrational mind it took a great deal of effort to not become offended by that fact. His scent was good enough, right? It’d sent Shiro into rut before. It should work just as good on him now. He took a deep breath and remembered that Shiro was almost probably the most upstanding guy he’d ever met in his life and cursed his luck and the odds that Mr Noble might very well just cook him soup and sit by his side without so much as a glance below the belt.

But before he could let himself continue to be caught up in internal monologue thus ignoring Shiro’s question, he forced his eyes to open and leaned back enough to look at him. Shiro was beautiful. He’d mentioned that before of course but holy shit was it ever true.

“Just-- can you...be next to me for a little while?” He sounded so small, so uncertain, so oblivious to the fact that he’d just asked Shiro to not only get anywhere near his sheets but to sit on them. But the look in Shiro’s eye was determined, it was strong, and ultimately Keith decided that somehow he didn’t seem grossed out beyond all reason. Shiro leaned in to press a kiss to Keith’s forehead and nodded.

“Okay, but you’re getting fluids in you soon.”

Keith held back the very real temptation to answer with ‘yes, Daddy’.

 

Keith thinks he might have fallen asleep only moments after Shiro had sat back in his bed propped up on a few of the many pillows while pressed into his side. His breathing was heavy again but that was nothing new, and his eyes were closed but the thing he was focused on was Shiro’s smell. Keith’s lips were once again pressed to his neck, one leg hooked up over his legs. He couldn’t be sure if he were still asleep and dreaming or not, but he felt pleasure blossoming up from his groin as he rocked his hips against the side of Shiro’s. With the man’s scent in his lungs, he felt himself getting closer and closer to orgasm just from the simple pantomime motion. But maybe this was a dream because the body he thought to be Shiro’s was as stiff as stone.

“Shiro…” He moaned softly, reaching up to grasp at the fabric of Shiro’s shirt and the moment he heard the man groan was the second he knew this was in fact not a dream. Keith opened his eyes and froze momentarily too, trying to stop himself and move away but Shiro had wrapped an arm around his waist while he’d slept. When they met eyes, Keith saw the darkened gaze he had been so used to, and the sight of it had him licking his lips.

“You… don’t have to stop. I know it’s hard.” Oh, was it ever. But Keith needed no further encouragement, rutting his hips against Shiro and watching Shiro stare back at him while he did so, a slight furrow to his brows and part to his lips and Keith knew damn well the man was using every last sinew of his body to hold back.

“Touch me.” Keith said as he reached for Shiro’s hand, tugging it towards the front of his pants only to meet resistant.

“Keith, I--” He turned his hand in Keith’s grasp, until it was Keith’s wrist behind held. “You have no idea how difficult it is for me to sit here and _not_ touch you but, I…”

But he, what? Didn’t want to do his job as an Alpha and take care of the Omega clearly in need? That was the spitfire response he wanted to say but the very thought that Shiro might continue in his stead as opposed to giving in had Keith reaching down to pull himself from the confines of his pants unabashedly. His cock lay heavy against Shiro’s upper thigh and Keith rolled his hips, gasping at the friction it provided.

“Shiro I’ve wanted you to fuck me since I first saw you, alright? No offense but-- can you just _stop_ being such a decent guy for two seconds and give in to me?”

“Since you first saw me?” Keith wanted to die if he was going to have this stalled for any longer.

“ _Yes_.”

“When you were sober?” Keith leaned up to bite at Shiro’s scent gland, sucking on the sensitive skin and relishing in the low groan it garnished.

“Mhm…” He ran a hand over Shiro’s chest, tweaking one of his nipples and if Keith weren’t mistaken, he could have sworn he felt Shiro harden underneath where his leg lay over him.

“Promise?” Keith unbuckled Shiro’s jeans as the man stalled for the fiftieth time and wrapped his fingers around his cock and it was times like these when Keith really did think he was a knot slut because Shiro’s dick in his hand felt like everything he’d been missing.

“Just fuck me already, Shiro, I swear to god--” His hand was snatched again, though Shiro’s grip was harsher than before, less restrained, and when he made eye contact it was a gaze that bore into Keith's soul and called out to the reasonable parts of him.

“Do you promise? I don’t want to be a mistake for you.” How in the world did he think he could let this man go again?

“I promise.”

  


The second the words were out of his mouth, it all happened very fast. Shiro sat up, capturing Keith’s mouth in a heated kiss that had him on cloud nine. It was as if Shiro was everywhere at once. Throwing both their shirts somewhere across the room, Shiro took off his own jeans before pulling down Keith’s pants and before he could have even a single moment to take in Shiro’s god-like body in all his non-clothed glory, his entire cock was down Shiro’s throat.

Instantly Keith’s fingers tangled in the man’s forelock of bleached hair, pulling him closer and gasping at the sudden sensation of it. Shiro’s mouth was hot, wet, and ten times better than Keith’s own hand had been the day previous of getting the job done. He felt Shiro’s tongue on the underside of him, laving up to his head and sucking harder than should be legal. In record time Keith was shooting his release onto Shiro’s tongue and trembling with need for more.

More, which Shiro gave him.

“You ready for me?” He said in that sexy baritone as he leaned over Keith, kissing down his collar bone, further still until one pert nipple was taken into his mouth. Keith nodded desperately, writhing underneath Shiro’s body weight and rocking up against him for some sense of relief from his never ending hard-on (or at least that’s what it was starting to feel like).

“Yeah-- please, _please…_ ” On any other day he would have hated every ounce of his guts for begging but this was Shiro and in this moment in time Keith didn’t care that their past was dust in the wind.

When the head of Shiro’s dick pressed against his soaked entrance, he hardly met any resistance. Keith felt sparks fly behind his eyes, bringing tears to them as he was filled-- so deliciously just as he’d been yearning for. He met Shiro’s thrust with abandon that had him tightening around the swollen length and tossing his head back to moan at the sensation. So good. This was exactly what he’d been missing for too long.

“How’s that?” Shiro’s brow was furrowed in concentration, giving off every indication that he were somehow still managing to hold himself back. Keith leaned up to moan directly into his ear.

“Fuck me harder, Daddy…”

And harder was exactly what Shiro gave him,

The sound of their skin smacking against each other was a metronome that set the background cadence of their pleasured cries, both rising and falling in twining octaves that fed off the other. Shiro’s hands were rough and dominant and Keith was so perfectly pliant within them as he flipped Keith so that his face pressed hard into his pillow and his ass lifted back against Shiro’s cock.

Over and over he drove into him, relentless and with a growing ferocity that had both of them breathless. Keith thought that after the first three times that he came he wouldn’t have any more left in him to give. But he felt Shiro begin to swell inside him, felt his thrusts jerking in their rhythm and his breathing become ragged. Shiro’s teeth grazed over his spine, biting into his shoulder blade as his orgasm built like a coil ready to burst.

“Shit… I’m going to…” Keith didn’t need him to finish the sentence to know its meaning.

“Fuck, Shiro… knot me. C’mon--” Moving back against him, Shiro came with a groan that Keith recommitted to memory just as his engorged knot breached Keith’s entrance. Despite his body’s overt willingness to open to anything Shiro had to give him, he felt his limits being tested, and it ached and stretched him so entirely that Keith could do nothing but moan in blitzed out euphoria while he came yet again and Shiro emptied himself deep inside him for what seemed like forever.

 

They came back to themselves slowly, breath finally evening out. Keith lay momentarily sated and on his stomach while Shiro trailed designs absentmindedly across his skin. Whether he fell in and out of sleep was unknown to him, but after a while he felt Shiro’s fingers brush back some of the hair at the nape of his neck, followed by a pause.

“You were mated?” Keith tensed. Reaching up to clap a hand over the bond bite given to him by the very man that was asking. It caused a pang in his heart that Keith wasn’t ever sure he’d get used to.

“Uh...yeah.” He didn’t want to elaborate. Didn’t want to talk about this. All he wanted was to keep Shiro locked away in his house for the duration of his heat and pretend his life was different and that this was two years ago. Shiro stayed quiet for a minute, and at first Keith chalked it up to him not knowing what to say. A small part of him hoped he was remembering something-- _anything_. But he knew better than to get his hopes up.

“I was too. I think…” What?

“You _think_?” He couldn’t turn back to look at Shiro. Couldn’t trust his own expression to have this conversation and not break down with the truth.

“Well-- I had an… accident, I guess you could call it. Lost most of my memories to some group of radicals who wanted to create a strength serum from Alpha blood.” He listened as if nothing else existed in the universe because this was the first he’d heard about anything that’d happened to Shiro and he definitely wasn’t going to miss a single syllable. “Anyways… I was there for a while, and I don’t remember much but… I think I felt my bond break. It was like-- someone shoved their hand into my chest and ripped out my heart. I’d never felt anything that painful before…” Keith felt like he was going to throw up. “Sorry. Mood killer, huh?”

Keith turned to face him hesitantly. “No-- it’s okay. It...it felt the same. For me, I mean.” Shiro stared at him with such a heavily sympathetic look in his eye that Keith felt shame down to his bone marrow. He’d thought Shiro was dead. There had been no indication otherwise. And for whatever reason when the man had suddenly returned back it had never occurred to him that he would have felt it-- the inconsolable loss that comes from a severed bond. Keith had just barely managed to handle the grief of it himself, but he had put Shiro through it when he was alone, without any warning or reason or understanding as to why. It was like it hurt all over again.

If he had just been stronger-- if he had held out for another month, Shiro would have come back and Keith would have leapt into his arms. But he hadn’t waited. He’d been so sure he couldn’t stand going through another second feeling that connection that he’d never get back that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

Keith wasn’t a crier by any means, but he felt his eyes sting with the threat of it. Shiro touched his face gently, misinterpreting the silence.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry for your loss, Keith.”

“Yeah,” Said the biggest liar and fuck-up the universe had to offer, “yours too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's POV. Hope you enjoy~

I just follow your scent

  
You can't just follow my smile

  
All of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine

  
Cutting me to the bone

  
Nothing left to leave behind

Fall Out Boy: Irresistible

 

Somehow, Shiro had managed to wake up at a time where Keith was still sound asleep. Judging by the scent in the air (however diluted due to the still overwhelming stagnation of sex) he could tell Keith’s heat was finally over. Making as little noise as possible, he rose from the bed to stretch, limbs and shoulders popping as if in resistance to moving at all. Shiro didn’t blame them, couldn’t when the most perfect man he’d ever seen lay in a disarray of blankets with a ridiculously alluring face even in sleep. His body told him to get back into bed, gather Keith up in his arms, and wait until he was ready to wake before taking them both into the shower together.

Shiro frowned at the sentiment. He’d been holed up in Keith’s apartment for what seemed like weeks and also mere minutes (realistically, it’d been about three days), but the severity of his need to protect caught him off guard. Even if Keith was attracted to him, Shiro had to remind himself that he was only a heatmate, nothing more. Did he want more? It made his head fuzzy to think about; caused the threat of a migraine to throb at the back of his head and temples.

He chalked it up to his subconscious desperately seeking out the bond he knew he used to have; the duties to an Omega whose name seemed both constantly on the tip of his tongue and yet light years out of his reach. Compartmentalizing his emotions like this had a pang shooting through his chest. It hurt. Shiro wondered for how long.

It seemed temptation came at him from every angle; from Keith, to his bed, to his shower-- Shiro wanted nothing more than to indulge in all of it until Keith kicked him out. A pathetic attempt at scavenging back normalcy, he guessed. Then again, he had no way of knowing if this was anything close to the life he’d had previously.

Though instead of allowing himself to wallow any further in existential confusion (which was how he passed a majority of his time), Shiro moved throughout the apartment to find a piece of paper and a pen so that he could write Keith a note. As he did so, there was a feeling he couldn’t seem to shake, a haze that threatened the periphery of his vision and caused Shiro’s brow to furrow.

A sense of familiarity, unable to be placed.

_Keith keeps his pens in the same drawer as his pipes._

The thought ghosted over Shiro’s consciousness as if it were second nature, yet it had him frowning further. Why did he know that? By all accounts and purposes, he shouldn’t. Or, had they smoked together? Shiro wasn’t certain, couldn’t tell if Keith’s pheromones had caused him to lose it to the point where there could be anything in the past few days that he’d forget. The thought alone had his heart rate spiking, that something could slip through his memory once more. It was why he’d refused to drink an ounce since his return. Why he studied trivial things so that they’d be forcefully committed to memory.

When Shiro made his way to the drawer in question, he found a menagerie of pens just like he thought he would and their presence had him freezing in place. Perhaps he was becoming paranoid, it wouldn’t be a long shot by any means. After all, the only way he’d have any recollection of this house and the things within it would be if he had known Keith previously. Did he?

_So...what’s your name?_

Keith had asked him that at the bar. As if they’d never met. As if he were the stranger Shiro thought he was. Shiro shook his head free of the running thoughts that threatened to trample him in place. Deep breaths, he told himself. He had to take deep breaths. Despite only having met Keith a few days ago, Shiro trusted that if they had known each other, Keith would have told him. He wouldn’t let his constant second-guessing send him into an anxiety attack, again.

_Keith,_

_As much as I wanted to stay, I had to make sure I’d still have a job._

_I left aspirin and water by your bed, drink as much as you can and take it easy._

_Make sure you eat something. If you need anything, you have my number._

_Shiro._

* * *

Work was absolute hell. It was constantly alternating between staring at the clock, the door, and his phone all for one thing: Keith. No matter what Shiro did or how many patrons sat gathered around the bar he just couldn’t shake the Omega he’d left earlier that morning. Was he doing alright? Did he eat lunch? Was he regretting every moment of every day he’d spent in Shiro’s company? He didn’t know; and god knew it was too weird of a question to ask. Inappropriate, even, Shiro might say.  It wasn’t as if Shiro expected anything out of the man.

Was it?

Why did he feel like a lovestruck teenager? He’d had sex with plenty of people in his life. For all the willpower and respect Shiro had towards anyone on the intimate front, he was nowhere near short on experience. Granted, anything before his capture was either fuzzy or nonexistent, but he hadn’t coped with the loss of an unknown mate with just his hand.

His mate… It was a sore subject to say the absolute least. One that had caused Shiro to drive his inhumane fist through a wall on numerous occasions shortly after his return. Were they dead? Had to be, he figured. Though broken bonds were a grey area for even the most practised scientists. Sometimes they abided by the weird set of genetic laws that followed secondary genders, and sometimes they didn’t. Shiro himself had heard of Omega’s who’d lost their alphas to illness or otherwise and yet still felt their bond as prominently as ever.

It was a finicky thing. Maybe his mate had just gotten fed up with waiting for him to come back and had moved on. He wasn’t sure which scenario hurt worse. Wasn’t sure how he continued to miss something--some _one_ that his body held no physical attachment to any longer. Being with Keith through his heat had distracted him, lulled him into a false sense of security and belonging and purpose. Hell, it had made him forget, if only for a moment, that he was an empty shell of a man who’d never forgive himself for forgetting the one person who meant more than the world to him.

Allura called him precisely five minutes after he would have gotten home, and as Shiro sat outside Altea smoking for the first time in what he could remember, he considered letting his roommate’s call go to voicemail. Then, remembering exactly who he was dealing with, thought better of it.

“Hey, I’ll be on my way home in a minute.” He began, already guessing the reason for her call.

“Is everything alright?” She tried to ask it casually but Shiro knows Allura better than that. Anyone close to him seemed to get antsy the second he’s late to anything and Shiro supposed he can’t hold it against them. But it’s almost as if there’s this eggshell routine surrounding him and that’s what puts him on edge. Like everyone is constantly looking at Shiro as if he were about to disappear at any moment and too fragile to speak that sentiment to. It made him feel like a burden, like he was broken. Maybe he was.

“Everything’s fine. I’m sorry I worried you.” Rather than tell them as such, however, he continued to show them he could be stronger than his demons. Stronger than anything that had held him down. No matter what life threw at him, Shiro would move past it; and he’d keep moving until it was all said and done.

“Who’s worrying?” Allura laughed in feigned nonchalance, as if she were fooling anybody, “I was just-- wondering if you’d be home before dinner got cold.” Despite it all, Shiro smiled.

“I’ll be home soon.”

He didn’t use to live with Allura, obviously. Shiro knew that before he’d even made his way back to the town he felt in his blood was home. The only question on his mind was what had happened to the person on the other end of his bond. Had they suffered just as he had? There was no time to ask. Being whisked away to a hospital with nurses gathered around made it difficult to formulate coherent thoughts; and then of course there was the business of his near nonexistent memory.

People who introduced themselves to him as friends began to filter in and out after the diagnosis: amnesia, and despite Shiro’s disposition at the time, he wondered where he’d be if Allura hadn’t been the first person who found him. It was for that reason that he agreed to stay with her until he came back to himself. In all honesty, he would have taken most any option if it’d meant getting out of that hospital room when he did. To get away from strange faces that all seemed to look to one another as if to ask ‘what do we do?’. Shiro couldn’t bear the weight of guilt that washed over him. He still couldn’t.

He was missing something. Missing gaps of time and people and places. Most days, he made the best of what he could, agreeing with the doctor’s decision to let memories come ba naturally as opposed to being hit with a wall of foreign truths. Other days, it drove him insane to not understand the source of pity in their eyes.

 

Shiro called Keith the moment he got in his car before he could stop to think about why or whether he even should. With every ring, the doubt in his stomach rose, but as the call was picked up on the fourth one, uncertainty dissolved as if it never existed the moment he heard Keith’s voice.

“Shiro?”

“Hey--” He answered before he’d even thought of a good enough reason for calling in the first place. All he’d known was that he couldn’t bear to drive home alone with nothing but his thoughts. Keith’s voice was nice, comforting. Somehow, Shiro knew it’d calm him down. “How are you doing?”

“Well, I’m not a sex-crazed maniac anymore so I’d say pretty good.” Shiro laughed into the receiver at that.

“Seems subjective.” He continued to smile through Keith’s pause.

“I’m sure you were tired of being gross enough to need a shower three times a day.” Hadn’t Shiro made it obvious how not grossed out he’d been?

“I was tired for other reasons. None of which I regret.” Shiro shifted his cell to his right hand, using his left to drive and glancing into his rear-view mirror to ensure there were no police in the immediate area to get him on using the phone while he drove.

“I didn’t say I regretted it either.” Shiro felt his heart swell at that.

“I miss you. Is that weird?” If Shiro had a knife, he would have sworn he’d be able to cut the sudden tension that flowed through the phone like it were butter. The words had just come out, and despite the fact that he in no way wanted to encroach on territory that wasn’t his, he couldn’t help saying them; would be lying to himself if he pretended it wasn’t how he felt. Still, Keith’s pregnant silence had him backtracking right away, chastising himself for honesty and forwardness he’d never learned to filter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s not that!” Keith’s voice came out in such an emotionally charged rush that it caused Shiro to jump visibly. Right away, however, he corrected his tone. “It’s not… I just…” Keith struggled for words that Shiro hoped were not cushions for his benefit. If all Keith had wanted was a capable Alpha to help him through his heat, then Shiro would accept that. Of course he would. It wasn’t as if there should have been anything else to be expected.

And yet…

If that was the case, why did Shiro feel like it would be a rejection he’d struggle to handle? Keith continued before Shiro had a chance to to answer himself.

“I’m not someone worth missing. That’s all.” His voice sounded softer, and it was filled with a sadness that had Shiro wanting nothing more than to shield Keith in his arms protectively and destroy anything that’d caused that tone in the first place.

“If this is supposed to be an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech you can save it, Keith. Really,” and despite Shiro’s growing sense of self-deprecation at how disappointed he’d be if Keith really wanted nothing more to do with him, he laughed to keep the conversation light. “I can take it--”

“It’s not that either!” The frustration in Keith’s voice made Shiro pull his car to the side of the road, giving the conversation his full attention and unable to ignore the worry seeping into his chest. His instincts told him to comfort the Omega in distress, while simultaneously making him feel like he wasn’t doing his job by letting Keith get this way at all.

“Alright…” Shiro started calmly, about to let his Alpha tone guide Keith into comfort when he stopped himself short, frowning as he did so.

_Keith hates it when you do that._

Shiro kept his voice level, and normal when he spoke. “I don’t want to upset you, but I need you to tell me what you’re thinking unless you want me to keep getting it obviously wrong by guessing.”

“It’s...what I told you before. I’m not--”

“Don’t say you’re not worth it, Keith. I can’t buy that.”

Quiet answered him back through the phone.

“...How do you know that?” Wasn’t that the question of the century.

“There’s just… Something about you.” It was all he could say without sounding like he’d lost his mind or was the type of guy who confessed his love after the first date. Not to mention, Shiro couldn’t help but think it sounded illegitimate to tell a guy you’d been having marathon sex with for the past week that you really wanted to see him for his personality after the fact. Still, regardless of how mindblowing the sex had been, what Shiro couldn’t stop thinking about was how in the small blips of sanity in between rounds Keith had whined for ice cream, or wanted to watch alien conspiracy documentaries even though he’d confessed to watching them all already. Shiro couldn’t get his eyes out of his head, or his smile. It was everything and nothing he could explain at the same time and ultimately-- it was terrifying. So he settled with the cryptic line he’d heard in movies and Keith seemed to like it so he guessed it was okay.

“I miss you too…” Is what Keith finally admitted to him after what seemed like an hour of silence on the line. It pulled Shiro’s lips into a relieved smile and he can’t help the nervous laughter that seeps through. Swiping a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Shiro responded.

“You’re not just saying that are you?” He teased.

“No way. I don’t have time to waste leading people on.” Shiro laughed again, and Keith followed up after another minute. “Can I… ask you something weird?”

Shiro raised a brow, pulling his car back onto the highway. “Shoot.”

“Don’t read into this, but-- do you want kids?” It was almost impossible to not read into that, but suddenly Shiro’s worries about sounding too invested flew out the window.

“Uh-- Honestly? I think kids are great, but I’m not sure if I’d want my own. I think I’d rather be an uncle that have another full time job, you know what I mean?” Keith’s voice had a tone he couldn’t place, but Shiro was glad to realize it didn’t sound disappointed.

“Yeah, I feel that. I don’t think I’d want them either.”

“Not reading into it, but-- why do you ask?” Shiro’s lips tilted up in slight amusement.

“I dunno,” Keith sounded awkward. “Guess you just struck me as the family type of guy.” The words settled on thoughtful ears as Shiro shrugged to himself.

“I think I am. But for me, I think…” He trailed off, hand gripping the steering wheel tighter. It was hurting again, his chest.

“You think..?” Keith prompted gently. Shiro took a steadying breath.

“I think a mate would be plenty. I just… wish I could remember to say for certain.” The road stretched out before him, and Shiro concentrated on the lane-dividing lines that flew past him as he drove instead of what had settled between Keith and him. It couldn’t be easy for him either, bringing up the subject of lost mates. Shiro hoped he hadn’t upset him.

“Maybe you will someday.”

“You don’t know how much I hope you’re right, Keith…”

* * *

Walking through the door had Shiro realizing he was much more tired than he’d previously led himself to believe, and he dragged a hand over his face subsequently. If he was lucky, Allura would let him shower and relax before she bombarded him with dinner. Not that he wasn’t thankful by any means, god knows Shiro never expected her to cook for him. But Allura was the type of friend who hated feeling helpless, so he let her cook the comfort foods from her childhood and ate them as if they were his favorites too.

Unfortunately for today, he wasn’t lucky.

Allura popped her head out from around the corner just as the front door shut behind him, one of her pet mice perched happily atop her moonlight hair.

“Oh, Shiro! There you are.” Her smile was warm. Shiro pushed his fatigue away.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” He gave a sheepish grin, walking into the kitchen and inhaling the food that sat already dished up onto plates. “This smells great.”

“Well I hope you’re hungry, then--” She broke off suddenly, moving a bit closer to Shiro and taking an (attempted) inconspicuous sniff in his direction. “This a recipe my father gave me...”

Shiro raised a brow at the action, stopping just shy of picking up his plate. “Is...everything okay?”  

“That scent…” Shiro felt embarrassment well up in him at the moment. From leaving Keith’s this morning, he hadn’t had the time to shower again. Though typically that was something he’d tote with pride (call it Alpha Instincts, the desire to showcase the smell of an Omega recently claimed) he was still getting used to the fact that he was living with another of his kind. It wasn’t uncommon for people of all genders to present as Alphas, but it was mostly considered odd for two of them to live with one another, even as friends. Tensions were bound to break out.

“Oh-- yeah, that’s where I’ve been the past few days, actually--”

“So he finally told you? Oh, Shiro this is _wonderful_ news!” Allura’s eyes lit up like a christmas tree at the prospect that had Shiro stopping in his tracks. Confusion etched across every feature.

“Told me? Who are you talking about?”

“Well, Keith, obviously--” When Shiro’s face remained that of a person who clearly had no idea what was going on, he watched Allura’s face fall and pale within an instant. If he focused, he was certain he’d be able to hear an elevated heart rate. “Oh-- oh no, I thought…”

Nothing was adding up in his mind, as if he hadn’t already felt muddled and frustrated enough. But now everything Allura was saying didn’t make any sense and it was causing a panic to rise in Shiro’s throat. Once again, he was the one in the dark. The one who didn’t understand the nuances and connections of the people and things happening around him. He had to keep it together, to figure out what she was talking about and get to the bottom of this.

“How do you know Keith?” A stupid question, probably. For her to recognize his scent so automatically it was impossible for them to be anything less than seasoned friends. There were better questions for him to ask. “ _What_ is he supposed to tell me?”

Allura was a deer caught in the headlights, unable to run and clearly chastising herself for the slip up. Even her mouse, sensing the atmosphere, leaped down from her head to her shoulder and off out of sight. A part of Shiro wanted to keep himself in check, to not make this a fight between two dominant Alphas but there was something brewing under the surface of all of this that Shiro couldn’t bear to ignore: betrayal. Had every moment he’d spent with Keith thus far been under false pretenses? What was the bigger picture?

 _What’s your name?_ Keith had asked him.

“I-- I really think this is a conversation you need to have with Keith. Shiro, I’m sorry-- I thought…”

“I didn’t know I needed to have any conversation with him!” He fought to control the tempo of his voice, to keep it pressed down along with everything else but it felt as if the very ground beneath his feet was shifting, slipping out from under him against his will. Keith had been the one thing, the only thing that had begun to ground him since his return. Was it a lie? A falsehood just as his mind was? It was too much.

“Allura, please…” He tried again. _Who is he to me?_ Shiro thought he said aloud but didn’t. _Why can’t I remember?_

_Mine._

The thought was a battering ram, forcing its way in and embedding itself within the very cells of his body. Shiro felt his limbs thrumming with it, his heart aching for it, this tether that he’d felt severed as if it were an old wound festering.

Shiro hadn’t realized that he’d been gripping the sides of his head and curling in on himself in frustration until he felt Allura’s soft hands come to rest on his cheeks.

“You need to go to him. I’ve already made enough of a mess of things but I can’t give this to you. It’s Keith’s information.” Despite the tension, she managed a small smile. “I’m afraid he’s already going to kill me for my big mouth as it is, even though we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for his stubbornness…”

“He’s always been stubborn.” Shiro said before he had the chance to wonder why he said it or how he would know. _It’s one thing_ _I love about him._

Wordlessly, he moved away from Allura’s touch, grabbing his keys off the counter and turning on his heel as if dinner were a long forgotten casualty. Allura was right. He wasn’t going to get his answers from her-- and as desperate as he was to have confirmation to the gut feeling coiling within him, he didn’t want them from her either. He wanted Keith to look him in the eye and tell him the truth.

For the second time that night, Shiro focused on the open road before him as he sped down the highway like a shooting star in the darkness. Unbridled, and raw, he wasn’t sure what he’d say or do. How could he knock on Keith’s door-- the man he’d just spent three incredible days with-- and know he was there to confront him on a lie that could leave him shattered. All these months of mourning a mate he never knew-- would that person really invite him into his bed under false pretenses? Questions flew through his mind faster than his speedometer but the most prevalent one that felt relentless was a simple: why?

When Shiro knocked on Keith’s door at just past midnight, he had a fleeting worry that he wouldn’t answer, and anxiety bubbled its way into his throat, past his heart rate that beat as if he’d just run a marathon. But less than a minute later, Shiro heard the metal clacking of locks being undone just before the door slid open to reveal Keith, in pajamas but not obviously roused from sleep.

“Shiro?” He said as his lips pulled into a smile, lips that Shiro had to fight tooth and nail to not stare at. “Missed me that much already, huh?”

Shiro put his hand on the door and stepped forward, his aura radiating a sense of seriousness that had Shiro drawing from his Alpha nature for strength.

“We need to talk.” Keith blinked, looking confused for only a fraction of a second before his expression turned to that of unease. Nervously he stepped aside for Shiro’s entry, eyes cast downward and hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay. What’s up?”

“Your bond bite,” Shiro began, nostrils flaring as frustration threatened to overwhelm him, “who gave it to you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't believe it's been close to a year since I updated this fic. Thank you so much for sticking with me! After you read this, you'll be like "thanks, I hate it!" So enjoy 8') Xoxo

_ I was I was I was I was _

_ Gonna say something that would solve all our problems _

_ But then I got drunk and I forgot what I was talking about _

_ I forgot what I was talking about _

 

_ Wilson (Expensive Mistakes): Fall Out Boy _

 

Keith felt every drop of blood drain away from his face the second Shiro’s question left his lips. 

_ Your bond bite. Who gave it to you? _

What the fuck had happened in between his phone call with Shiro less than an hour ago and now? Keith felt his heart racing to the point where it was only seconds away from making a crash-landing guest appearance on his floor. Knowing Shiro would most likely sense that skyrocketed his anxiety. He had to buy himself some time to figure out where they stood in this conversation, and why it was even being brought up to begin with. 

“Why?” Keith fought with his throat that threatened to close up on him before he could even manage to get any words out at all. He dug his fingernails into the flesh of his sweaty palms. “Where’s this coming from all of the sudden?” 

When Keith looked up, the expression on Shiro’s face made him feel like the biggest shit stain on the earth. The man’s jaw was clenched so tight that Keith wondered if he’d even answer at all. And his eyes, there was pain in them that Keith couldn’t bear to address in that moment. When Shiro spoke, his voice was low and constrained. 

“Allura,” Shiro began. “The second I got home, she smelled you on me.” 

Fuck.

“So..? What did she say?” 

“Why don’t you tell me what she would have to say?” Shiro took a step closer, and his sudden proximity had Keith fighting the urge to move back. Allura wouldn’t tell Shiro. Would she? Keith would never speak to her again, no questions. 

Then again, if she’d smelled him on Shiro… What other conclusion would she jump to? He’d been a class A idiot for not thinking that one through better. 

“How am I supposed to kn--”

“ _ Keith.”  _ Shiro’s Alpha voice froze Keith in place. 

_ Don’t do this, Shiro _ . He wanted to say.  _ Don’t make me tell you like this and ruin everything all over again. You’ll never forgive me and this time I’m gonna really lose you forever, won’t I? I’m sorry… I’m sorry. _

Instead of answering, Keith simply shook his head in an attempt to quiet the unforgiving rambling his mind was doing. He didn’t even realize he’d been backing up until his spine hit the wall and startled his eyes open. Shiro moved closer still. 

“Keith, you gotta give me an inch here.” Shiro’s level of composure never failed to leave Keith in awe. “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m trying not to let myself believe that you’ve been lying to my face about something so potentially important, but I need  _ something. _ ”

Keith couldn’t give Shiro even that. 

He looked up, and his heart broke all over again, fracturing into little pieces at the agony in the eyes of the man he loved. He never wanted this to happen. Should have stayed away. Even if he told the truth now, Shiro still wouldn’t know him. Wouldn’t love him. Definitely no chance for that last part now. 

“I  _ can’t,  _ Shiro.” Can’t to all of it. To having a backbone, an answer, a shred of moral dignity. 

Shiro’s palm slammed into the wall next to Keith’s head. “You  _ can,  _ and you damn well better start. Look at me.” Shiro gripped Keith’s jaw in his hands, and despite his outburst only seconds prior, his touch was gentle. “Look at me and tell me who your mate was.  _ Please,  _ Keith.” 

How could Keith have ever been such a monster? 

“You.” Keith’s voice broke the moment the word left his mouth. Though his eyes began to sting, he wouldn’t allow himself to cry. No way. “It was you.” 

When Shiro let go of him, Keith felt like he’d been burned in the places Shiro’s fingers were. Shiro stared at him like he was a stranger. 

Keith had to keep reminding himself that that’s exactly what he was. 

“Why?” Shiro said in this voice that was so small and soaking in devastation that Keith fought the urge to fall to his knees.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know where to start. The answers he could give Shiro would never be enough, they would never justify everything he’d put the man through.

“I,” Keith started, but his brain didn’t know what to supply him with. He felt tongue-tied in the worst of ways. 

“No,” Shiro said, and shook his head. “Don’t answer that. I should have taken the implication Allura gave me and used it to fill in the blanks myself. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past six months anyways.” 

“Shiro, I didn’t mean to--” 

“You didn’t mean to  _ what,  _ Keith?” And the venom in Shiro’s voice when he said it hit so many old, festering wounds that it took all of Keith’s composure just to breathe. 

“To let it go this far!” Keith took a step forward. How could he not? The man who would have moved the stars for him was standing there, with bruises on his heart that matched Keith’s fingerprints. Keith had never wanted to kick his own sorry ass more. “Shiro, please. Let me explain.” 

“And tell me the truth for once? That’d be new, wouldn’t it? How long did you think you could lie to me about something so  _ important _ ?” Shiro didn’t move, despite the fact that Keith had encroached on his space. But from this proximity, the tension in his jaw was glaring.

Keith’s eyes started to sting, but he wouldn’t do that. This was his guilt to bear. He wouldn’t cry. “I didn’t want to lie to you!”

“So,” Shiro started, moving closer and imitating Keith’s voice. “ _ What’s your name _ ?” It was what Keith had asked Shiro in the bar. 

“Shiro, I didn’t-- I wasn’t even planning on seeing you! I tried my best to stay as far away as possible, but I--” 

“ _ Why _ ?” Shiro all but yelled the words. 

“Because you deserved everything I couldn’t give you!” Keith did yell. Everything in the past few months, hell, the past two years, was crashing around him in that moment. He couldn’t help it anymore. The tears began to flow. “We were fighting all the time because I didn’t want to give up getting blitzed out of my mind and you wanted to settle down-- really settle down. I saw my whole life with you, Shiro. But when you came back, when I found out that you didn’t remember me, or anything we’d been through, I thought… This is my chance. To let him have a new life. All I wanted was for you to be happy. Even… Even if it was without me.” 

“That was never your decision to make!” Shiro gripped Keith by his biceps in a hold that implored him of something he couldn’t pinpoint. “You were all that kept me going.” Shiro’s hold faltered. “In that… place. Even when I couldn’t remember, I knew I had to make it back to you. I just kept thinking… there was someone out there who needed me. I had to make it home.” 

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I’m so fucking sorry.” Keith reached up, digging the heels of his palms into his weeping eyes until he saw stars, and gritted his teeth against the pain of it. 

“How did you break it?” 

Keith shook his head, unable to answer. Not that, he couldn’t say it. The shame was too much. He’d given up. Given up on the only man-- the only person-- who never gave up on him. 

“ _ Answer me, Keith. _ ” Shiro’s Alpha voice seized Keith by every fiber in his body, forcing him into submission until he was unable to even keep his eyes off Shiro. “Who was it?”

“Just--” Keith hesitated, his entire body burned. But this was the end, anyways. The end of the road. Keith knew he’d been barreling towards it ever since he took one step into the bar that night a week ago. Keith opened his mouth to continue and the sound that came out was completely, utterly broken. “It was just some Alpha at a club. It’d been a year and a half. It hurt so much, Shiro. Every day, every minute. I never knew if you died or if you just left me. I got so drunk that night, I just… I just wanted it to stop hurting.” 

_ It was the worst decision of my life.  _ Keith thought he had the courage to say, but clearly he didn’t. ‘I love you’ was a sentiment in a similar vein. 

Shiro let go of him for the second time. This time, Keith knew, would be the last. 

“Well, congratulations.” His voice sounded almost foreign. Keith realized it’s the voice Shiro put on when he’s guarding himself, or when he’s trying to act stronger than he really is. “I hope it was worth it, Keith.” He moved away, turning towards the door he’d stormed through only minutes previous. 

“Shiro,” Keith started, but there was nothing to say. Beg for forgiveness? Keith couldn’t do that. Shiro was too nice, too kind. Keith had broken his heart. He wasn’t owed anything. Still, it was Shiro’s name on his lips. Because no matter what happened, Shiro would always be the only person he called out for.

Shiro didn’t turn around. 

Keith had never thought he’d equate the sound of a door latching shut to crippling fear, but it overtook him all the same. Keith fell to the floor, arms wrapped around himself and snot dripping down past his curled lips. 

_ Shiro…  _

_ Shiro…  _

_ Shiro! _

* * *

 

Keith was woken up by many things happening very loudly at the same time. One was his phone ringing. That one had initially been easy to deal with. He saw that it was Lance and promptly switched his phone over to Do Not Disturb. Now, there was someone pounding on both his bedroom window and his door, and by the time Keith managed to drag his ass out of bed, his phone was ringing again like it’d dug its way out of its own grave. 

To top it all off, there was a migraine behind his eyes that seemed to have grown throngs of roots in the past few days to take over the entirety of his brain, each of which, were throbbing. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt like more shit. He also couldn’t remember when he’d last drank any water.

Keith yanked the door open, knowing full well that his facial expression would plainly convey every pain and negative emotion thrumming through his person. He expected to find Lance standing there, and was shocked to be met with Hunk’s surprised face. 

“Oh, uh--” Hunk stammered, holding a hand up to magnify his voice as he called out to the side, all while holding eye contact. “He answered!” 

Lance came out of the bushes much like a wild animal, almost eating shit as he did so and with a twig stuck in his hair. “Fucking finally.” When he saw Keith, he stopped, took in the sight. Apparently it wasn’t a good one. Lance whistled low. “Man. Let me tell you, Keith. I’ve seen my fair share of shit before, but you take the whole cake. Like. The entire cake was saved just for you. It’s all yours--” 

Hunk reached up to clap a hand over Lance’s mouth. “What Lance is trying to say is, uh. You’ve looked better. You alright?” 

Without answering, Keith took stock of the scene before him. Did Hunk and Lance finally get together? He didn’t know. He also didn’t know how much they knew about what happened. The last he’d talked to Lance about Shiro had been before his heat. 

“Hey, earth to Keith. Keith?” Lance waved a hand in front of his face. 

Keith swatted his hand away. “What,” he started to say but stopped. His throat felt like the fucking desert. He coughed before continuing. “What do you guys want? I was sleeping.” 

“Dude,” Hunk said. “It’s four pm.” 

“Oh.” Keith scratched at the back of his neck before sighing. “Question still stands.” 

Lance stepped closer, almost cautiously. “Do you remember a little word called,” he waved his hands out in front of him as if he were spreading a map in the air. “Work? It’s this thing where you show up when they tell you, and then you get paid. Crazy stuff. Pays for all types of shit. Like, I dunno,  _ rent _ !?” 

Keith scrubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, fuck. Was I in today?” 

“And yesterday, and the day before that. Are you following now? I’ve been covering for your ass all week!” 

Week…? 

“Wait, Lance.” Keith tried to remember on his own, but can’t. “What day is it?” 

Hunks mouth fell open into a gape. “Yup. I knew it. He’s depressed.” 

“I am not  _ depressed,  _ Hunk. I just asked a question.” 

“It’s Saturday,” Lance said. 

Saturday. When did Shiro come over? Keith realized with a start that his argument with Shiro happened last Sunday. How had he lost track of almost an entire week? 

As if to emphasize the time lapse, Keith’s stomach let out an agonizing growl. 

“Fuck, I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” But his voice was empty. 

Everything was empty. 

“Okay, that settles it.” Hunk declared with a clap of his hands. “I’m gonna cook you food.” He started to walk inside, but Keith’s hand stopped him. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

Lance knocked his hand out of the way. “We already know your place is sloppy, Keith. The only person who cleaned was Shi--” But even though his voice stopped, Keith knew where the sentence was going. Of course he did. 

Again, his eyes stung. “Don’t,” he began. “Don’t talk about him.” 

Keith pretended he didn’t see the look exchanged between Hunk and Lance. 

“Okay.” Lance said with an unspoken sentiment hanging in his breath.  _ I’m sorry.  _ Keith thought it might be. 

Hunk put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “The only thing we have to talk about is what you want to eat.” His mouth turned down. “And maybe a trip to the grocery store, if your fridge is as empty as your stomach.” 

Keith knew this already, but he really has the best friends anyone could ask for. 

Inside, Keith didn’t know what to do with himself or his hands. Everything about this day felt disorienting. So he chose to stand there as out of place as he felt. 

“Why don’t you smoke a joint if you’re going to look like that?” Lance’s voice was muffled by the pantry cabinet he was rooting around in.

Numbly, Keith shook his head. “I don’t want to.” 

Hunk fixed him with a look. “Okay,  _ you,  _ Keith Kogane, don’t want weed?” 

“This is worse than I thought,” Lance said, scandalized. 

Keith was starting to want them to leave, despite his earlier internal admission of their importance to him. “Look, why are you guys here? I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but… I dunno. I was sort of hoping to wallow in peace, I guess.” 

“And you have been,” Hunk said, sifting through the questionable contents of his fridge and tossing expired items into the already full trash. 

“But,” Lance picked up for him. “You’ve been doing that already, for-- oh my god, these potatoes are growing more potatoes.” 

“Toss ‘em out, Lance.” Hunk looked off into the distance, a declaration of war on his lips. “This is purge season.” 

“This is mold season.”

“I can hear you guys,” Keith muttered with only enough energy to be half offended.

“So can the potatoes. That’s how much time they’ve had to develop in here. Seriously.” 

“No, please!” Hunk held his hands to his face, pitching his voice higher, playfully childlike. “Don’t ruin our spudciety! It was  _ tubular _ !” 

In a fit of laughter, Lance dropped the bag of sprouted potatoes, ending with a wet  _ splat  _ on the ground. “Aw, man. Hunk, you’re canceled.” 

Hunk sighed. “I’ll get the Clorox.” 

It felt like a scene out of a comedy, and despite the fact that Keith felt like his insides were literally withering away and dying, he felt his lips pull up. 

And laughed.

Both Lance and Hunk’s heads snapped over towards him, their mouths hanging open comically. 

“He smiled?” Hunk asked as if it were still up for debate. 

“Holy shit,” Lance said, turning to Hunk and lifting his hand for a high five. “We are  _ good _ !” 

Hunk returned the high five, and they both broke out into finger guns. “Too good.” 

“Nevermind,” Keith held up a hand. “I’m losing my appetite and changed my mind.” 

“You can’t change your mind when something’s funny.” Lance was still smiling. 

“Oh, yeah?” Keith tried to drop the amusement from his face, but found he was unable to. He walked passed Lance to grab a water bottle from his fridge. “Watch me.” 

“Ew--” Lance clapped a hand over his nose. “How about  _ wash  _ me. When was the last time you showered?” 

This time, Keith’s smile did fall. 

Without looking away from his task at gathering edible items, Hunk swatted his hand out blindly until it met the meat of Lance’s thigh. “Stop ruining our progress on the Keith’s Happiness Meter.” 

“I didn’t! I’m being honest!” 

“Uh-huh,” Hunk replied, not convinced. 

“I’ll go shower.” Keith couldn’t shake the feeling of displacement as it was. And standing here, it was like the grease in his hair became heavier, weighing down his bangs and sticking inky locks to his neck. Maybe he’d feel like half a person again after he wasn’t coated in a week’s worth of self pity. 

* * *

 

Under the hot spray of water beating on his shoulders and chest, Keith thought he’d cry again. It felt like that was all he’d been doing. But even as his eyes stung and forced themselves close with a grit to his teeth, he couldn’t. 

There were no more tears. 

Instead, Keith crouched down, hugging his knees to his chest before curling up as small as he could on the shower floor. The scorching gush was trying its best to incinerate him, burn him to ash. Make him disappear. But it didn’t work, nothing was working. Keith had been drowning for every second of every day and he really wished he’d get the fuck over it already. 

He just didn’t know taking responsibility for his own fuck ups would ache so torturously. 

* * *

 

After what felt like ten years, Keith stepped out of the bathroom, followed by a billow of steam, ushering him back into the world of the living. His hair dripped down his neck and onto the shirt he thought was mostly clean and, not wanting to be scolded for his lack of self care, Keith remedied that by scrubbing his towel over his head once more. 

“Finally!” Lance calls from down the hall where his torso is leaning around the wall. 

“Did I take forever?” Keith frowned at how his voice came out: unusually small and unsure, vulnerable. It was a tone he didn’t let out often, a softness he’d only ever shared with one person. But the hot shower had scrubbed him raw and left him feeling exposed in all the worst ways. 

Lance and Hunk, Keith thought, picked up on it. 

“Nah,” Hunk said, kicking a chair out for Keith at the dining table. On it, a pot sat unceremoniously on top of a hot pad holder. Inside was heaping amounts of mac n’ cheese that looked to be way more cheese than mac. Keith’s stomach growled at the sight. 

“I love this shit.” Keith said with the same inflections as before. 

Lance preened. “Yeah, I know.” 

“And I assumed,” Hunk added in. “Y’know. Because the top shelf of your pantry had like, six more boxes? Anyways, it’s not fancy. But I added some sauteed garlic.” 

“Tell him the best part, Hunk.” 

It was Hunk’s turn to look proud of himself now. “ _ And  _ I put in cut-up hot dog.” 

“A genius, right Keith?” 

Keith sat down, but it was more like he fell into the chair. His eyes were stinging again. Wasn’t there a Visine for that? He needed some eye drops. 

“Woah, Keith, you okay? It’s just some Mac.” Hunk held up both his hands in surrender. 

“I thought you ‘loved this shit’, huh?” Despite the teasing, Lance’s voice was concerned. 

Keith didn’t understand what they were fussing over until he reached up to touch his eyes and they were wet. “Fuck, I…” He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he didn’t have to say anything. But if this continued, Keith knew his friends would end up trying to comfort him and he knew if anyone tried to hug him at this moment he’d either crack completely or snap. “Sorry.” He wiped the tears away with the backs of his hands before picking up the spoon in the bowl Hunk dished for him. “Thanks, guys.”

“Okay, that’s it!” Lance slammed his palms down on the table, standing up with determination etched into his face. Hunk jumped with a yelp and fumbled with his spoon until it clattered across the table. With am unbridled glare sent his way, Lance thankfully, had the wherewithal to look sheepish. 

“What’s it?” Keith asked without looking up from his bowl and around a mouthful of cheesy goo. 

“We’re going out tonight.” Lace declared as if it were a triumph. Keith, again, didn’t look up. He figured Hunk would be able to handle this particular brand of terrible idea. It didn’t warrant a response from him. Hunk, as expected, comes through. 

“Uh, Lance, do you take constructive criticism?” 

“No, I do not.” Lance gave Hunk a smirk and another finger gun and was met with, somehow, Hunk’s cheeks flushing. 

Keith’s face of disgust let a noodle slip past his lips and fallback into the bowl. 

“So, what do you say, Keith? Hunk’s in.” 

“How does asking if you take criticism equate to me being in?”

“I feel it, big guy. You love partying with me.” 

Keith didn’t look, but he could feel Lance winking in the air like some sort of perturbed spider sense. He continued to eat his food. 

“I can’t argue with that,” Hunk said and Keith can’t take another second. 

“I can.” He finally looks up at Lance. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mullet Man,” Lance said, and Keith looked at Hunk while mouthing ‘mullet man’ at him. “You  _ need  _ to get out of this stuffy house and have fun.”

“Lance might have a point, man. It could make you feel better.” 

If Keith agreed to this, maybe he’d be able to suck back a few drinks and find his inconsolable bullshit to be a bit more manageable. If he fought them on it, he’d be hearing about it for not just tonight, but for countless nights to come. Just the idea of it was enough to bring back his headache.

Keith sighed in a way that should make exactly how he felt about the subject clear. “Fine. But I reserve the right to ditch you guys if you get sloppy and I’m bored.” 

“You’re one to talk.” Lance’s smirk might as well have been a billboard that said ‘I’m About To Bring Up Something Embarrassing You Did Once’. “Who was it that helped me win the body shots contest after we were already like three lines deep?” 

“You guys are  _ so  _ lucky you aren’t dead. Like, really.” Hunk, ever the voice of reason. 

“We won free drinks for a month.” And Keith can’t help but smile when he recounted it. Lance clapped him on the shoulder. 

“You’re damn right we did! That’s the tone I’m going for tonight. So go put on something slutty.” 

“Lance, I--” 

“Slutty, Keith! I won’t hear another word! If you don’t come out of your room looking so fuckable even  _ I’m  _ tempted, then I’ll send you back inside.” 

“Uh, Lance,” Hunk raised a brow. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re not hard to tempt.” 

Lance replied in a stage whisper. “Hunk will you shut your pretty mouth for a second here, I’m bargaining.” 

“Just a reminder, again,” Keith said, standing up. “I can hear you.” He paused, ending with a smirk. “ _ But,  _ you’re lucky that ‘fuckable’ is basically my whole wardrobe. So hang on.” 

“That’s my boy!”

This night was either going to be a great escape or one big fuck up. 

* * *

  
  


Keith had never been to Oriande before. It was a relatively new club that opened up downtown, and from what he’d heard it was pretty good as far as crowds went. The people who did mention it only had good things to say. 

But none of it compared to what Keith was met with when they walked inside. 

The first thing he noticed were the lights, all pastel and white flashing, bounced off a dome ceiling that looked to be inlaid with glitter. It created this crazy kaleidoscope strobe effect over the entire place. Added to the fact that all the counters, tables, and couches were glossy white (a perfect reflective surface), Keith was thankful that he wasn’t inebriated yet. It felt like being inside a psychedelic light bulb. 

“Holy shit,” Lance yelled over the hard bass as they weaved their way through the crowd. Not even five minutes in the place and Keith was already getting attention from every Alpha who had him in their line of sight (or scent). Keith knew that’s what he was dressed for. He’d done exactly as Lance said. 

Fishnet stockings covered his legs, feet clad in a pair of black leather combat boots. He managed to shimmy his ass into the red pleather, high waisted booty shorts he’d owned for years, and topped it off with a black crop top that said ‘Knot For Sale’ in red cursive font. He had a thing for red and black. 

Typically, he’d love this. Him and Shiro used to go to clubs all the time, separately. Keith would go in first with Shiro tailing him after twenty or so minutes and then they’d play the hottest cat and mouse that Keith ever experienced. There was something intoxicating about having some Alpha hit on him only to have Shiro shove them out of the way and claim Keith himself. It was the only time Shiro ever let his natural dominance come out. 

But Keith stopped himself before he can reminisce anymore on the subject.

Shiro won’t be coming in after him tonight.

“Dance with me,” Lance talk-shouted in Keith’s ear, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“Hunk went to go get drinks and that guy’s staring at you. Dance with me.” 

Keith followed Lance’s line of sight and spotted a tall man with long platinum blonde hair and unusually sharp eyes stuck on him. He turned to Lance and wasted no time in moving so his back was pressed against his friend’s chest and his arms wound back around his neck. Lance responded by putting his hands on Keith’s hips and swaying him to the music. Keith shut his eyes, taking in the beat and timing his movements to it, he didn’t need to look to know Lance would be staring the man down. 

Lance really was a good friend.

“Is he gone yet?” Keith leaned his head back to say into Lance’s ear. To anyone else, it would look like they were a couple. 

“Yeah, let’s find a table.” Lance let go of Keith just in time for Hunk to return with their drinks. Belatedly, he felt bad for not realizing Hunk had to carry three glasses through a crowd, but the man did it without any casualties so he supposed it was all good. 

“Why do we need a table?” Keith asked before taking a large pull of his mixed drink. The tequila burned his throat in the best ways.

“We’re, ah, meeting someone.” 

Keith froze in place. Fingers clutching his glass. “Who?” 

“No one…” Lance may be a good friend but he was a shitty liar. 

“Lance, I swear to god. If you--” Keith couldn’t even say it. He couldn’t imagine a shitty world where he’d agree to go out with friends only to be cornered by a set up with the man he could never have again. It would be worse than unfair, it’d be downright cruel. 

“Calm down, okay? I invited Allura.”

It was weird. For a hot ten seconds, Keith’s anxiety had skyrocketed over the potential of seeing Shiro. But hearing that it was Allura felt oddly disappointing. Man, he was fucked. 

“Oh,” was all Keith managed to say. Was he mad at Allura? He wasn’t sure. Keith knocked back his drink. He needed about eight more, twenty minutes ago. “I’m getting a refill.” And he didn’t wait for either Lance or Hunk to answer before he turned to part the sea of bodies on his way to the bar. 

There were so many scents all around him. That was the first thing Keith had noticed once his bond with Shiro had been broken; the smell. He’d forgotten what it was like to be affected by another Alpha’s scent. Now, they mingled around him in heavy wafts and breezes, causing his nose to wrinkle in distaste. It didn’t matter that the scar on his neck was no longer potent. He never needed a bite to link him to Shiro. 

“What’s that frown for, Pretty One?” 

Keith hadn’t even realized he’d reached the bar until the bartender was speaking to him, and he frowned at the pet name. Typically, Keith couldn’t stand being called pretty. And he tried to be angry about it now. But there was something in the man’s face that made it feel more paternal than anything else. Keith glanced at his nametag and read: Kolivan. “That’s just my face. Can I get a double shot of tequila with lime?” 

Kolivan raised a brow before beginning to oblige him. “I hope you’re at least fooling yourself with that.” 

Keith rolled his eyes, pushed his bank card towards him. “Are you paid to try to be a therapist, or a bartender?”

“Cutting.” A pause. “I’m paid to bartend, I’m tipped for therapy.” 

“Well I’m fresh outta one’s.” 

Kolivan slid the glass across the counter. “This should make you smile. Have a good night.” 

Keith wasn’t sure what sort of night he’d have, but he tossed out a kurt ‘thanks’ to cover his bases. Idly, he wondered how many people a night were the type to lament their woes to the first open ear available. No thanks. Keith had enough pity welled up in his own bones. He didn’t need it from anyone else.

After some searching, he found the table where Lance, Hunk, and Allura all sat, talking and laughing. Keith took a deep breath before walking up and sitting down. 

Immediately, Allura’s smile faltered.  _ Good,  _ Keith thought to himself. 

“Hi, Keith.” She started, hands nervously reaching for her glass. 

“Are we gonna do the awkward thing? Is that what’s happening?” Keith took another gulp of his drink.

“Well, I…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault, not yours. So let’s pretend like we already talked about it and now it’s over.” 

“Pretty sure that’s called repressing.” Hunk said it to Lance, but not in a voice that didn’t permit them all to hear it. 

“I think it’s called wanting to have a good night.” 

“Yeah, I’ll drink to that.” Lance held up his glass, wiggling it in the air until everyone lifted theirs and clinked them together. 

* * *

 

“So, then,” Keith said to Kolivan as he leaned heavily on the counter waiting patiently for his fourth drink. “She fucking outs me to Shiro! What was I supposed to do, you know? Now he hates me and I’ll never get him back.” 

“And this woman is supposedly your friend?” Kolivan somehow managed to ask with total interest while also wiping down a counter, and cleaning a glass before starting on Keith’s drink. 

“Yeah. I mean. I get it. I would have thought the same thing as her, it’s just.” Keith let his forehead clunk down on the counter. “I didn’t think everything would go to shit so fast.” 

“Keith, why don’t you try speaking to him again?” 

Keith lifted his head up, his drink was waiting in front of him. “Shiro?”

“Yes. He was your mate, wasn’t he?” 

“Have you been listening!? I can’t just  _ talk to him _ !” 

“Of course I’ve been listening. And I don’t see why not.”

“Because he hates me!” Keith hated the way his voice went up a notch at the end of his sentence. Kolivan rolled his eyes. Rolled his eyes. What an asshole. And here Keith was, pouring his soul out to the man. 

“I highly doubt he hates you. And, you’ll never know unless you open a dialogue.” Kolivan leaned his elbow on the counter and leveled a stare at Keith. “Do not let your emotions get in the way of your mission.”

Oh, Keith was way too drunk for metaphor talk.

“What the fuck is my ‘mission’?” 

Kolivan shrugged. “It seems to be doing what is right by your Shiro. Put yourself in his shoes, then consider my advice again.”

_ That was never your decision to make!  _ Shiro had said that to him. Keith took his drink as if scolded. “I guess you have a point.” 

“I do. Now, go have a good time or I’ll cut you off.” He winked, and Keith took a deep breath before nodding. 

“Thanks, Kolivan.”

Keith worked his way back, just as he noticed his phone going ballistic in his back pocket. Who the hell wanted something from him now? He pulled it out and was met with around ten texts, all from Lance. Without unlocking his phone, he only saw the three most recent ones.

[Lance: KEITH. MY MAN. WHERR U??]

[Lance: IT WASN’T MY IDEA.]

[Lance: SHIRO IS HERE.]

Keith’s heart immediately went into overdrive, threatening to spill his drink and so he steadied it by taking a swig. Shiro was here? Why? How? And most importantly, why? Okay. This was fine. Keith could handle it. The liquid courage coursing through his veins would definitely help. 

_ Why don’t you speak to him?  _

Keith wondered if he’d be able to point Shiro out to Kolivan when he went back for another. But a slight stumble in his step had him wondering if he’d need it. 

Eventually, he made it back to the table and though he had told himself with full conviction that he wouldn’t look at Shiro until he was ready, there was no way he’d be able to look anywhere else. 

Shiro was so fucking beautiful it hurt. 

He wore a black button up shirt with the top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Keith’s eyes dragged over him, over the inches of exposed chest, and finally up to his eyes. 

Of course, Shiro was looking at him too. 

He sat down.

“Wow!” Lance exclaimed, slapping a hand on Hunk’s shoulder and his other on Allura’s. “We are having a  _ great _ time. Keith! My man, you’re back!” Lance’s voice may have said fun, but his eyes were a full on distress beacon. They told him everything Keith needed to know: Lance definitely didn’t invite Shiro, who ever  _ had  _ invited him had done so without any warning, and Lance was freaking out about it almost as much as Keith would be if he were sober. 

“Yeah,” Keith started, his eyes darting to Shiro before moving back to Lance. “The bartender’s nice. I was talking to him for a while.” 

“Oh, you  _ were _ ?” Lance had the nerve to waggle his brows at Keith who flushed almost instantly. 

“Fuck off, Lance. He’s like twenty years older than me. And I just meant nice in the normal way.” Keith wouldn’t let himself look at Shiro now, until the man broke the silence. 

“Where did you get that shirt?” Shiro said, and it was like, for a minute, last week didn’t happen because he chuckled when he said it. Keith thought for a moment that he might be talking to someone else, but when he looked up, Shiro was staring right at him with a brow raised in question. 

“Oh, uh…” Keith felt the alcohol making his cheeks feel even warmer than typical. He fiddled with his cup and straw before forcing his hands to be still. “You bought it for me.” 

Hunk cleared his throat. Allura suddenly found something very interesting to talk to Lance about. Keith wanted to die. 

“That explains why I like it, then.”

Keith hoped to find some answers to the questions speeding through his mind when he looked into Shiro’s eyes, but he couldn’t find any. This made less sense to him than anything that had happened thus far. At least Shiro leaving him after having his trust betrayed was expected. This, Keith didn’t know how to handle without getting his hopes up that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination. 

“You’ve always had good taste.” The alcohol was making this easier for him. Thank fucking god. 

“Yeah,” Shiro said while pointedly dragging his eyes up over what he could see of Keith above the table. “I can tell.” 

God, Keith loved him. Loved him so much that it felt like his heart was pressing against his sternum, trying to get to Shiro. It belonged in his hands, after all. Man, he was so much sappier when drunk. 

“Shiro, I…” Keith started, not sure where he was going with it. Shiro shook his head and held up a hand. 

“Not right now. We can talk later.” 

“But you’re talking to me right now, and…” 

Under the table, Shiro knocked his foot against Keith’s calf. “I remembered something.” 

Keith’s heart leapt in his chest. “You did?” He leaned closer, elbows on the table, totally enrapt in what Shiro had to tell him and their tension forgotten in lieu of the hope that blossomed so violently and sudden it should have startled him. 

“Yeah.”

“What is it?” 

“I’ll tell you if you dance with me.” 

Why did Shiro have to be the best man he’d ever known? The best man to ever exist, even? Keith laughed despite the ache in his chest. “Of course I’ll dance with you.” Keith stood up from the table, knocking back the rest of his drink and giggling at the way the room spun with the motion. Most people hated the dizziness of being drunk, Keith loved it. He reached out his hand to Shiro who was still sitting, and tugged him up. “C’mon, Handsome.” 

With Shiro in tow, they made their way to the dance floor. 

Keith stopped at a decent spot, one where no one was shoving into him, and Shiro came up right behind him, his human hand coming to grip his hip. 

“Do you have any idea how good you look?” Shiro’s voice was low in his ear, lips ghosting over the shell of it. Keith shuddered. 

“I did look in a mirror before we left, but,” Keith said as he tilted his head back, offering his neck to Shiro. “I wouldn’t mind you telling me.” 

“Did I tell you a lot?” 

Keith smiled before remembering Shiro’s promise. “Hey.” He turned around, coming face to face with Shiro and letting his arms wrap around the man’s neck. “Tell me what you remembered before you flirt with me.” Being this close to him felt so good, so natural. Keith missed this more than words could express. 

Shiro’s lips faltered a bit, but he regained his composure and his hold on Keith’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. “Allura asked me to come here. Earlier. I wasn’t sure I should.” Pause. “Or wanted to.” Shiro stroked his thumb over Keith’s hip bone, teasing the rim of his shorts. “But she said I used to go out a lot. And, as soon as she said that I just… remembered. Us.” He smirked. “Going out like this.” 

Keith blushed hard, but held the eye contact Shiro gave him so generously. “Do you remember how it worked?” 

“I think I got the jist of it.” 

Keith leaned up, as if he were going to kiss Shiro, and it was so bold a move considering what still lay unspoken between them that he would have never attempted it sober. Hell, he wouldn’t be having this conversation sober. But Shiro didn’t move away, and so Keith moved his lips to Shiro’s neck and nuzzled at his scent gland. “Do you wanna play?” 

Shiro’s breath hitched, his hands tightened. Keith’s homorned buzzed through his body telling him  _ good boy  _ for affecting his Alpha like this. His Alpha. 

“Yeah,” Shiro said, almost breathless. 

Keith let go and took a step away from him. 

_ I love you.  _

“Okay, set a timer on your phone. Five minutes.” 

Shiro’s smile was dazzling and dark, and all the things Keith wanted to see. “You got it, baby.” 

Keith bit his lower lip to stifle the sound that wanted to come out at the pet name. Though he wanted to stare at Shiro longer, he couldn’t waste time. Five minutes was much less time than he was given normally, but under the circumstances he assumed it’d be fine. Normally he wasn’t a handful of drinks in when they started, it’d be much easier to find some poor Alpha now. 

Moving away from Shiro, Keith’s laughter bubbled up in his throat, adrenaline for the prospect of being chased pulling his limbs forward and making his breathing come faster. He weaved in between the crowd, ducking at points in case Shiro was trying to follow his movements. Though Keith knew Shiro wouldn’t be able to see him after so many feet anyways. The dance floor was like its own organism, moving as a collective sea, and Keith was being dragged out with the current. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted that man again, the blond tall one from earlier. Keith wasn’t sure why his attention was pulled, but it was unnerving. The man stood well beyond the crowd, leaning against a wall shrouded in darkness. All that stood out was his hair, which reflected the UV light cascading around the room, and his outfit which seemed to glow violet on its own accord. LEDs? Keith wasn’t sure. But the man was staring directly at him. 

Keith continued on his quest, choosing to ignore him. If he picked him, Shiro would find him easily. There was no fun in that. Then again, Keith wasn’t sure how much of an upper hand he’d have now. Before, Shiro was able to pick up Keith’s scent even when the area was saturated in body odors of all types. Now, maybe it’d be more challenging. Keith hoped not  _ too  _ challenging. This wasn’t a game he wanted to win, after all. 

After searching, he found an Alpha that would do. This man looked to be laid back, with a lazy grin in place on his face from the moment Keith looked at him. He walked up, and whether he was exuding confidence or drunkenness, Keith wasn’t sure and also did not care. All he needed was for the man to be interested. 

“Hey, pretty thing.” 

There’s that word again. Unlike with Kolivan, Keith hated it this time. But he grit his teeth and beared it because it will be all the more satisfying when Shiro caught him, saved him.

“Hey,” he said back, lifting a hand and dragging his fingers lightly down the man’s exposed chest. He was wearing a blue jean crop vest, unbuttoned. Keith thought he was an absolute fashion disaster. For a moment, he considered finding someone else, but then remembered his time limit. Five minutes had likely already passed which meant Shiro was making his way through the crowd to find him. 

Keith’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. 

The man leaned in. “Damn, you smell good.” 

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Rolo.” He gave a smirk. “You?”

“Keith.”

“Keith,” Rolo repeated, reaching up to hook a finger into Keith’s belt loops and tug him closer. “That’s a nice name.” 

“Thanks, I was born with it.” Keith wasn’t good at flirting with other men anymore, even if it was for pretend. His eyes darted around quickly, in the hopes of seeing Shiro in the distance. He doesn’t.

He also doesn’t see the blond man who’d been leaning against the wall. 

Keith frowned just as Rolo guided his face back with a pointer finger and thumb on his chin. “I’m over here, baby.” 

“Sorry,” Keith said, but internally he feels something off. He doesn’t want this Alpha to be able to get away with touching him, not for long. He also doesn’t want anyone else to call him baby.  _ Shiro, where are you?  _

“Tell you what,” Rolo began, coming even closer until Keith could smell his breath. “You can make it up to me.” 

Maybe Keith couldn’t play this game anymore. Not when the hands on his hips weren’t Shiro’s and he didn’t even have the certainty of those to begin with. He thought this would be fun, a way to bring them back to a time before any of this complicated bullshit. But Keith could feel nothing but suffocated, as if he were on the verge of being unable to breathe. Even his fingertips had begun to tingle.

_ Shiro--  _

What did Pidge tell him about when his breathing got like this? Oh, right. 

It was a panic attack. 

With more force than necessary, he shoved Rolo away from him. “Sorry, I-- I gotta go.” 

“Baby, what’s your damage?” Rolo reached out, taking Keith’s arm. “Stay a while.” 

But Keith,  _ really  _ wasn’t in the mood for this. He yanked on his arm. “Let go of me. And don’t fucking call me that.” 

When the grip tightened, Keith couldn’t help gasping for air. He wasn’t getting oxygen. Had something happened to the club that stole it away? Keith felt the edges of his vision begin to spot with black. Rolo’s voice distorting in his mind until he was hardly able to comprehend it. “Don’t be scared, I’ll take good care of--” 

It was only after Keith’s fist impacted with Rolo’s nose that he realized he’d punched him. His hands were shaking, and there was a smear of something dark on his knuckles. Blood? Keith didn’t waste time figuring it out. He pushed his way through the crowd. 

“Shiro!” he called out, knowing damn well the music and base would steal his voice, refuse to let it travel to the man he searched for. “Shiro!” 

Keith spun on his heel and the room didn’t stop when he did. Too many drinks. Concentrate, concentrate. He turned again, and slammed directly into someone who steadied him by his shoulder. 

“Keith!” It was Allura’s voice, but Keith could hardly focus his vision. “Did you see him?” 

“What?” 

“Shiro!” 

“I’m looking for him right now--”

Lance and Hunk ran up at the tail end of Keith’s sentence. In their eyes he saw what made his blood run cold: fear. 

“We can’t find him.” Lance said that, stealing a worried glance at Keith. 

“No, no,” Keith began. “It’s okay, he’s looking for me. We were playing…” 

“Keith,” Allura reached down, took Keith’s hand in her own. “Shiro’s not in this building. His scent trail ends near the back door.”

What was she talking about? What was going on?

Lance touched his shoulder next. “That creepy guy from earlier, he’s gone too. Remember? Keith, are you with me, buddy?” 

_ I’m gonna throw up.  _ Keith tried to say out loud, but couldn’t. He nodded, a sickening dread filling his stomach at the way the man had been staring at him. 

“We think something happened.” Hunk was speaking now. Well, they were all shouting, really. Fighting for acknowledgment over the music. “Like, connected to him going missing before.” 

Keith’s mouth went dry. He managed to hold himself together enough to speak. “What-- what the fuck are you saying? Where is he? He was right behind me. Shiro!” Keith called out, turning away from his friends. It was unthinkable. So unthinkable, in fact, that Keith couldn’t even put it into words in the safety of his mind. “Shiro!” 

_ Don’t leave me again. Don’t leave me again. Shiro, please. Please!  _

But they were right, Shiro was gone. 

Keith had never fainted before in his life, and in the midst of a large inebriated crowd wasn’t the best place to start. But, nonetheless, everything around him went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! For more information about my writing along with updates, follow me on Twitter @spookysheith !
> 
> *UPDATE* there is now a prequel to this story! Check out my pinned tweet for details.


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